


Poor, Unfortunate Souls

by StarTravel



Series: Learning to Settle [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Genetic Engineering, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Medical Trauma, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, canon - Garak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-15 18:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16068581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: Everyone has a daemon, an animal that represents their soul and serves as their lifelong companion. Most everyone also has a soulmate, their daemons imprinted onto each other's wrists in beautiful detail.Miles has one on each wrist, but only one of them has settled, leaving Miles lost to their identity. Garak has one and resents that he has that many. And Julian wears cuffs around his wrists and never touches the hummingbird on his shoulder.Eventually, all three of these things start to change.





	1. Chapter 1

 Cardassians’ daemons settle at birth, the soul already fully formed for service of the state. There is no decades of questioning as there is with humans or Trills or Bajorans. Just a simple knowledge of what and who they are and the many possibilities of who and what they can be. So Garak knows his father must have started planning his future from the moment Eyal flew over him, her long black feathers glistening shades of purple in the bright morning sun.

 It’s the only light she and Garak will know for a long time.

 A Cardassian raven symbolized wisdom and intelligence, creativity and cunning. If Garak’s father were not Enabran Tain, he could have been many things. A poet, a painter, a diplomat, a judge - the list goes on. But his father was Enabran Tain so the only place for Elim Garak was the Obsidian Order. And he _excelled_ at it.

 Elim quickly proves himself to be a natural at subterfuge, spinning beautiful and enticing lies with each new role he slips on, each new act reeling his prey into a spider’s web disguised with his feathers. And Tain thought his sense of aesthetics would never come in handy. As though his pleasures or his tortures would’ve been have as effective if he just used the tired old ways of the Obsidian agents who came before him. No, Garak’s got a natural flair at pulling information from people, sometimes with honeyed promises he suspects they both know he won’t keep, and sometimes he pulls them out like teeth, truths he needs but could never share himself coming out in screams.

 Yes, Garak and Eyal are both naturals at espionage and torture, matching keen eyes and sharp mouths laying waste to every threat that comes their way. Garak needs nothing but this service to Cardassia, Eyal perched on his wrist like a warning sign.

 So of course, that doesn’t last, Garak waking up after 25 years markless with a swirling mass of color on his right wrist. First his soulmate has to exist at all, and then they don’t even have the decency to be Cardassian? Garak stares down at the mark, lips twisted into a tight frown as Eyal perches on his shoulder, her soft thick feathers brushing against his neck in a comforting fashion.

 “Maybe this won’t end up meaning anything,” Eyal murmurs into his ear, lightly nipping at the edge of a ridge to pull his gaze away from the swirling mass on his hand and back to her. Garak wonders idly if it’s because she’s telling him to be more aware or because she’s upset she doesn’t have his full attention for once. Knowing himself, it could be either. Garak reaches a hand up, brushing it carefully along a feathered wing as he bites back a sigh. He has no idea how Eyal managed to get all of his deep buried optimism, but he’s at least glad that it’s being whispered in his ear and not running through his veins and clouding his vision with glasses that are more blood-tinted than rose. Hope is a thing an Obsidian operative cannot afford.

 “Eyal, it’s a soulmate, not a stain, I can’t exactly get rid of it,” Garak tells her with a low huff, shaking his arm out anyway like it might disappear if he wills it. The mark doesn’t, of course, instead swirling into vibrant violets and deep tangerine, clashing violently with each other and with the grey of his skin. Garak frowns tightly as he runs his hand over the mark, hating the surge of fondness he feels as he touches the garish colors. Whoever this mark is, Garak doesn’t want them in his life, for their sake and for his, doesn’t want to wait to see what this mark becomes.

 Soulmarks revealed each other’s daemons, images of each other’s souls embedded into each other’s skin. And, since that might not be obvious enough for some people (not including Garak), a person and their daemon could talk to and understand the daemon of their soulmate. And, once those daemons were allowed to touch, a surge of emotion and of the senses - trees and the morning dew and the ocean if platonic, rich scents and the light chill of the night air and overwhelming if romantic - that would let someone sense their soulmate, have a vague idea of their location and emotions depending on the distance, and more pressingly, if they were alive.

 “We could.” Eyal reminds him softly, jumping from his shoulder to rest on his wrist instead. She flaps her wings a little, brushing her feathers over his hand until he can’t see the mark at all anymore. But the sheen of her wings is the same rich purple of the mark in the early morning sun, and Garak thinks she knows it too. Still, Eyal looks up at him, her dark, beady eyes already calculating all of the possibilities that he is as well. “But we have no reason to think we need to. We might never meet them. They might chose you over their country.”

 Garak stiffens at that, eyes widening as he stares down at Eyal. She flaps her wings twice, meeting his gaze with a pointed one of her own, as though _he_ were the one who just said something unbearably foolish. “You think I want a soulmate who’d chose love over their country? How shameless would that be?”

 “They won’t be Cardassian, whatever betrayal they make won’t have to hurt Cardassia.” Eyal answers him as hops back to rest on his hand instead, the edges of the swirling colors revealed to him again. They’re a deep crimson and neon yellow this time, and Garak can’t decide if he’ll be regretful or relieved when the colors finally smooth out and shape into his soulmate’s daemon. That will be easier to hide on his missions, if nothing else. Though, who would think a Cardassian who dared to have a soulmate from somewhere else was an agent for the government? This mark, at least, won’t hurt any of his covers. Small miracles. Then Eyal meets his eyes, raising her wings in what Garak’s learned to take as the Raven version of a smirk. “Unless you’re afraid your feelings for them will make us betray Cardassia instead.”

 “I’m not one for such sentiment, Eyal.” Garak reminds her in a cold voice, turning his eyes away from his daemon to the bland grey of the wall instead. Romulans. Garak knows that, as unlikely as it he would ever love whoever this mark on his arm is more than Cardassia, Eyal is right to prepare for the possibility. They need to plan for every possible outcome. Garak hopes he simply never meets his soulmate, but if he does, he’ll need to keep them at arm’s length until he and Eyal are sure they can trust that they will accept that for Garak, it must always be Cardassia first.

 Garak imagines he’ll be keeping them at arm’s length for a very long time.

* * *

Murphy is a rabbit right now, hopping around him on the kitchen floor while his mother cooks, the scent of thick beef stew filling the air and sliding down his lungs. Miles lets out a slight chuckle when Murphy suddenly turns into a maned wolf, apparently deciding she wants a bit of that meat more than she wants to hop right now. Murphy bumps his arm, right where his mark is, swirling colors all aligned in a careful pattern now, shades of blue and purple traded for deep oranges and reds. The wings spread up his forearm, six pencil-thin black legs spreading toward his wrist. Miles can't believe his soulmate settled so young or before him, but he guesses they must know themselves pretty well. Miles likes to think he does, but the maned wolf at his side tells a different story. “What do you think they're like, if they’re a butterfly?”

 “Beautiful, bright, ever-changing.” Murphy guesses and Miles gives her a slight frown, trying to recall what he’s learned in school about different daemon forms. They line up with certain personality traits, most of the time, so he can make a few educated guesses.

  Still, those traits don’t cover background or how they show themselves or other parts of their personality, so at the same time Miles doesn’t have any real guesses to what this person is going to be like. Murphy lets out a small growl as she curls up in his lap, resting her cold nose against the edge of one wing. “Maybe kind of short?”

 “Brilliant insight there, Murphy.” Miles assures her with a scoff as he runs a hand over the top of her head, staring out over into the patches of grass outside his window. They live in one of the few non-urbanized parts of Ireland, surrounded by thick grass and rolling hills. The fact they fly over them in shuttle crafts is a bit strange, but Miles loves it here. He can’t imagine why he’d want to live anywhere else or eat replicated food, which honestly sounds gross to him. Murphy, though, she is looking out into the knolls and somehow past them, as though she knows they’re going to end up somewhere else once she is something else. “So when do you think you’re gonna settle as? A horse? Maybe a beaver? Some kind of dog?”

 “That seems like it’s more up to you than me, Miles. What do you think you’re going to settle as? I don’t really feel like a horse.” Murphy tells him as she climbs more fully into his lap so he can pet her more easily, not seeming to care that she was practically bigger than him in her current form. She presses her nose into his curls, letting out a small, curious bark when he doesn’t answer. Miles swallows, because it feels both too soon and too late to decide what he’s going to be for the rest of his life.

 “No? So much for us having fun in the holosuite together. Oh well, you can probably do something as a beaver or a dog too.” Miles mutters instead of giving a real answer. Honestly, he has no idea what they’ll settle as, other than that he has a sense it’ll be a mammal and something on the bigger side. Not like a lion or anything, but certainly not a rabbit or a squirrel. Though, a squirrel would be able to help him with his engineering projects.

 “You seem pretty set on those three, Miles.” Murphy answers with a soft growl, a sound Miles knows is meant to be something like a rough laugh. Miles runs a hand down her furred back, letting out a small chuckle of his own as he stares off out into the knolls again. Maybe Miles is more sure of what they’ll be than he thinks. Maybe he’s just not ready to really know that yet, even if he suspects that Murphy already does. She’s always had good intuition. Murphy suddenly nudges his other arm, voice soft and curious as her claws brush his wrist lightly. “What do you think they’ll be?”

 “They?” Miles asks as he scrunches up his face, only for the rest of his words to fail him as he sees a mass of colors spreading out on his right wrist in a swirl. Miles feels his mouth go dry, half from shock and half from excitement. Already nearly thirteen and just now getting another soulmate. Who would’ve ever guessed? Miles glances between the vivid shades of the butterfly and the ever-shifting swirl, meeting Murphy’s gaze with a wide grin. He thinks they must be in for an adventure with these two.

* * *

“Jules, where are we going?” Kukalaka asks as she lands on his elbow, a brightly colored bird right now, her feathers every shade of the rainbow that Jules knows. He tries to match his drawing to her, but he doesn’t have enough crayons. Mama didn’t pack many of his toys for this trip. Jules hopes that means they’re going somewhere fun. All of his classmates have been on vacation, but he never has, his parents just saying they were saving for something ‘very important’. Jules just wants to know what they were saving and how it could be more important than going to see the ocean or meeting cool new aliens. Though, mama said he’d meet aliens no one at school had ever seen before when they got to where ever they were going, so maybe it’s worth the wait. “Where?”

 “We’re going to a new place, not home or school.” Jules tells her with a wide smile as he finds a red crayon, the same color as the feathers nearest to his face. That’s when Kukalaka shifts again, feathers sinking into warm brown fur as a monkey smaller than Jules has ever seen before wraps around his shoulders. Jules pouts a little, grip on his crayon growing tighter, because he doesn’t even have a brown one! Then he giggles, warm and bright, as Kukalaka climbs down his arm to grab at the crayons too. She’s always been so curious.

 She holds up a blue crayon to him, and then presses it against the paper, making a line straighter than any of his, though she starts to curve it a bit at the end so it looks more like they’re usual drawings.

  Kukalaka drops the crayon after a moment, shifting again, this time into a rabbit with large floppy ears and far too much energy, hopping across the table so much that Jules can’t even make out the paper underneath anymore. It doesn’t make sense, he’s not upset at all, so how can Kukalaka be? Still, her voice is high and shaky she speaks again. “But where?”

 “I don’t know, but look! There are so many aliens, and some of them are coming towards our ship,” Jules calls as he runs over to the small windows, almost tripping over his feet as he reaches the glass. He hadn’t even noticed they were landing, this ship must be just as special as his mom said. It’s certainly the smallest Jules has ever seen. But outside now there are tall buildings in the back, pure white and glistening in a sun that’s more bright and blue than the one on earth. The aliens coming toward the ship are tall and feathered, and there’s a bird that looks like that. Jules hopes Kukalaka shifts into that so they won’t scare these aliens, since none of them have feathers at all. Instead, she shifts into a giant wolf and leaps in front of him, ignoring the way Jules grabs at her tails.

 “Jules,” She growls in warning and suddenly the air feels different, heavier, as the bird-aliens climb onto their ship. They’re looking at him without smiles or warmth, analytically as they approach him. Jules suddenly understands why Kukalaka is a wolf.

  He tries to hide behind her, but his mother grabs his left hand, palm carefully hiding the Cardassian Raven on his left wrist as her nightingale Karim makes sad trilling noises. Jules shuffles along after her and the birds, into a building with sterile white walls and cold eyes that make him want to cry. He doesn’t come out for a long time.

*****

 “Where are we? Why is it so bright in here?” Jules mutters in a raspy voice, wincing as the lights hits his eyes. He reaches his hand out into the room, grasping at nothing as his vision slowly returns to normal. Except no, the room feels different somehow, richer. Before the walls were a simple white; now Jules can see there are hints of a color closer to eggshell in the paint, flickers of cream along the floor panels. The sheet, a bit too rough, a bit too itchy, is folded too tightly around him. It feels oppressive. The entire room does. Julian looks around, heart sinking when there is no response even though he can feel Kukalaka everywhere. “It wasn’t this bright when they brought us in.”

 “No, it wasn’t,” Kukalaka whispers into his ear and Jules twists around - was he always this fast? - to come face to face with a butterfly dancing on his shoulder. Then she flies off his shoulder, coming to rest in his lap as she shifts from a butterfly into a arctic hare, fur like velvet beneath his fingertips. The velveteen rabbit, Jules thinks to himself with a small smile as he stares down at her, half expecting Kukalaka to turn into a stuffed animal for reasons he can’t understand.

 “Kukalaka, you’re still here?” Jules whispers in a small voice as he stares down at her, before closing his eyes because the lights are getting brighter and he can hear people talking outside the door, though he can’t quite make out the words. He just knows he doesn’t like the modulations of their voices, that they hurt his ears a bit and make him cover his ears. Kukalaka winces at the same time he does, moving further up to him as though to shield herself from the sounds. After a moment, they fade and Jules swallows softly, glancing around the room to see if there’s anything to do. He’s tired, but he’s not sure if he’s tired enough to sleep, so he’d like to color or hear a good story. Mostly though, he’s just glad he’s not truly alone. “I thought they might take you.”

 “Of course, we’re not going anywhere.” Kukalaka promises in a small voice as she shifts into a large tabby cat, curling up on his chest. After a moment, Jules matches his breathing to hers, slow and steady until sleep overcomes him again. When he wakes up next time, she’s a tiger, standing between him and the Adigeon doctors with a low growl until Jules runs a hand down her back and shakes his head. They’re many things, but he doesn’t think they’re a tiger.

 Two months after that, Jules finally leaves the eggshell walls and dusky grey hallways of Adigeon Prime, brand new books he’s already finished and dozens of advanced math and science texts filling his backpack. Jules is excited to go back to earth, though he’s a bit disappointed he can’t visit his grandparents anymore. His mother said it was too far away from where they were moving, and she ignores him when Jules asks how that could be possible with instant transmission.

 His father just snaps that he asks too many questions, which at least isn’t any different from before he went into that dreadful hospital for so long. The way his dad treats him otherwise is, asking Jules to recite equations and facts for bored and then bemused ship captains. He feels a bit like the parrot Kukalaka currently is on his shoulder.                    

 “Jules, can we not go back there? I didn’t like it very much.” Kukalaka whispers into his ear when their father finally lets them go. Jules runs to the back ship as quickly as he can, skidding past a small piece of metal sticking out from the wall to hide in one of the furniture holds. Next to him, Kukalaka shifts into a small red panda and climbs into his lap as she curls into his arms. Jules runs a hand down her back, nodding and glancing warily around the room in case his father finds him and asks him to list the periodic table next. It’s strange, he doesn’t remember his father having much interest in him before or that he still felt so lonely when he did.

 “No, I didn’t either, Kukalaka, it was rather lonely even with all of the books they kept bringing us.” Jules whispers in quiet agreement, shifting closer to the wall as Kukalaka presses against him as though to hide him from the rest of the ship. Jules smiles a little as he opens up his backpack, pulling out one of the padds and holding it in front of them both. He might have hated the hospital and might not understand why he was so sick for so long, but Jules knows that he loves all the stories he read and collected during his stay there, each page as vivid in his memory as the first time he saw them. “Though I’d rather like to read more novels, I liked _Anne of Green Gables_ , even if it was much too short.”

 “We thought it was long, when we started,” Kukalaka murmurs into his ear as she shifts on his lap so she can see the pages as well, the first few lines already like an old friend. Her words though make Jules pause, hands squeezing tightly against the ends of the padd. Kukalaka looks up at him, gaze confused and frightened, as though she just figured out something Jules can’t even begin to guess at in the last few seconds.

 “Did we? I wonder why,” Jules murmurs as he flips the page, doing his level best to ignore the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach and focus instead on Anne’s first meeting with Matthew. After a moment, Kukalaka starts following his eyeline, occasionally repeating the lines back to him after he finishes reading them. _Echolalia_. Jules blinks, not sure where the word comes from or why he knows what it means. He tells himself he always has and goes back to the book, hands digging just a bit more into Kukalaka’s fur.

* * *

Miles hikes through the hills near his home, thick grass brushing against his ankles. He remembers that back when he was a child it came up to his knees. But now he’s 17, almost 18 and no longer a child. In a few weeks he’ll be in Starfleet for basic training, off to fight wars to protect planets and people he’s never seen, distant worlds Miles can’t begin to imagine.

 He wonders what the grass is like there, if it’s thinner or coral instead of green, or if it will burn his skin with every touch, if he’ll have to make himself a suit of armor just to fight. A small part of him, one that terrifies Miles, feels excitement running through his veins.

 Murphy senses that, coming up to his side as she shifts from a large eagle to land next to his feet, body stretching out and talons turning into claws coming out of paws, feathers sliding into silky, mottled grey fur. Murphy sits next to him on her hind legs, lean body feeling almost like a warning sign as she gazes up at him with knowing eyes. Miles raises an eyebrow, reaching his right hand down to brush across her fur. Then he feels something shift in him, an acceptance and understanding that felt like it’d been missing until now. Oh. She’s settled, they’re settled. Oh.

 “So that’s what it’s gonna be then, Murphy? I didn’t really take us for the greyhound type, but you don’t look half bad.” Miles tells her in as casual voice as he can manage, doing his level best to ignore the way his voice breaks on a few of the words. Murphy looks up, her warm brown eyes gazing at him as she runs around him in a circle, somehow looking goofy and graceful at the same time.

 “I’m representing you, so I guess you’ve thought about being a greyhound after all.” Murphy points out as she rolls her head around, ears flopping a bit against the wind. She seems to be trying to get used to their new, permanent form, jumping up experimentally a few times so her front legs brush against his chest. Miles lets out a low snort as he kneels down next to her, not wanting the still pristine grey of his cadet uniform to get dirty just yet. He brushes his hands across her ears, smiling when she licks his cheek excitedly. Miles was at least right about the dog part. “So, the question you really should be asking yourself is why, Miles.”

 “Why? Well, I guess they’re pretty independent and protective. Strong and loyal, like the quiet, steady life.” Miles muses to them both, thinking of the greyhounds, both daemon and pet, he knew growing up. They were more nervous than a lot of other dog breeds, but smart and steady in their own way. Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling him that he needs to be more cautious, that the butterfly on his left wrist and swirling mass on his right need him to be. Or maybe he’s more of a worrier than he likes to admit to himself, he thinks with a wry laugh.

 “Know a lot about them for someone who thought we’d be a horse.” Murphy mumbles as she pushes at his chest, turning her gaze pointedly toward the rock and thistle path that leads back to his house. He’ll need to go and tell his family goodbye soon, for God knows how long. Starfleet is at war and Miles will be a soldier soon, phaser in one hand and screwdriver in the other, not knowing when he’ll face a battle with Cardassians and when he’ll face one with a poorly made replicator. All he can do is hope there are more of the second than the first, that this war ends before too many lives are lost on either side.

 “My grandpa had one, she looked a bit like you, actually.” Miles tells her instead of any of that, because Murphy already knows, has seen the same footage and heard the same stories that left a chill deep in their bones. He’d rather focus on her shiny new form and all the journeys they end up taking together. “It’s good, we’ll be able to protect our butterfly and whatever this blob ends up being.”

 Murphy lets out a small noise from the back of her throat and Miles decides it’s the dog version of a snort, bumping her soft, cold nose against his cheek. Miles leans down and wraps his hands around her back gently, letting his hands run across her smooth fur. He lets out a low huff of his own, glad that whatever happens, Murphy will be by his side. That makes him feel, if not safe, at the very least capable. Murphy leans in and licks his left wrist playfully, shaking her head as she stares down at the orange and red spreading across his wrist. “Are we going to start looking for them? The butterfly?”

 “No, I don’t think so, Murphy. Call me a romantic, but I’d to find them through fate like in the good old days. Besides, when you see them, you’ll know and you’ll let me know.” Miles answers her with a wry laugh as he finally rolls to his feet, gazing hesitantly at his front door, hands curling slightly as he steels himself for the goodbyes. No, he’s saying enough goodbyes as it is right now, he doesn’t need this butterfly to be added to the list. He’ll find out after the war, after he’s safe enough to let someone else into his life like that.

 “You just don’t want to get embarrassed if you go up to the wrong butterfly.” Murphy calls to him playfully as she runs a few feet in front of him, forcing Miles to follow after, let the pain in his chest starts all over again. Miles runs after her, putting thoughts of butterflies and rainbow blobs out of his mind for now. He’ll worry about those when the time comes for them.

 It takes Miles longer than he would’ve guessed, not meeting that butterfly until he’s nearly 38, a blind date set up by Data of all people. Miles doesn’t expect Keiko to show up and start arguing with him about the atmosphere on the ship, but she does, detailing every single way it’s bad for the vegetation she and the other botanists  are trying to keep alive. Miles snipes back about how the other engineers need to keep it cool for the components of the ship to work, and soon the debate becomes playfully heated, lasting long past when their meals got cold and through several glasses of synth ale. 

 It’s not until then that Miles notices the proud looking greyhound on her left wrist, fur mottled and eyes kind in a way that belies their stern look. There’s no way it could be anyone but Murphy. Keiko follows his gaze, smile wide when she finds where his eyes have landed. She mouths ‘took you long enough’ at the same time he leans forward, lips pressing against hers in time with her butterfly Daisuke landing on the bridge of Murphy’s nose.

  Miles feels a rush of connection spread through him, body warm and the air around him suddenly smelling like a pine forest, just enough of a hint of a breeze against his hot skin to make him shudder, both impossibly overwhelming. Romantic it is and Miles is relieved, because that was one hell of a kiss.

 Three years later they’re married with a child, debating if it’s safe or not to go to Deep Space Nine. Miles knows in his gut that he needs to, needs to help free Bajor from Cardie Occupation. He owes them that much, when he didn’t do anything to end it earlier. He had his orders of course but … in retrospect, Miles thinks they were wrong and he wants to help set things right, as much as he can. That, and he feels an inexplicable pull towards the base, like there’s something there waiting to greet him. He almost involuntarily stares down at where Murphy is lying across Keiko’s lap to rest her head protectively by his right wrist. Keiko follows his gaze silently, biting her lip. “Miles, is your other mark _still_ a blob?”

 “I guess they must be a trill.” Miles throws out with a quick shrug, words feeling wrong even as they leave his tongue. He doesn’t know why, but he’s always thought this soulmate was closer to him than that growing up, somewhere on earth. Of course, that doesn’t mean they couldn’t be a trill raised on earth somewhere, daemon never settling on the off chance they need to be something that can carry a symbiote someday. Miles introduces himself readily to each trill who passes through the enterprise, but none of them catch Murphy’s careful gaze, eyes flicking away and back to Keiko pointedly each time it’s not his soulmate. It’s starting to get damn frustrating.

 “I don’t know why, but I don’t think so.” Keiko murmurs suddenly as she comes down to brush her hand against the mark with a hint of a frown, gaze curious as though she’ll be able to find the answer if she stares at the swirling colors long enough. Miles knows how she feels, he’s done it often enough himself. He’s never been able to find any, not when the colors used to be so bright that it almost hurt his eyes, and not now when most of the time they’re muted and faded, only shining brightly every few weeks. He can’t help but wonder what makes his soulmate more themselves for those few minutes, if there’s anyway to help them get back to that feeling or settling or - something that doesn’t make Miles’ heart twist every time he looks at the wrong arm.

 “No, me either,” Miles admits after a moment, pulling his sleeve down over the mark with a low sigh. Murphy curls up against his arm, head grazing over his wrist before her head comes to rest fully on his lap. After a moment he feels soft wings brushing against his cheek, and glances out of the corner of his eye to find Daisuke resting against his cheek, her compassionate gaze matching the feel of Keiko’s lips against his forehead. She’s never given up hope that Miles will find them, even if Miles almost has.

* * *

“I can’t believe that you got us exiled.” Eyal murmurs into his cheek, voice admonishing even as she nuzzles into his cheek, wings spread out as though trying to protect him from the wary gazes of Bajorans on the promenade. As though Garak hasn’t already spotted them all, catalogued and categorized them based on how much of a threat they could be to him if he’s not careful enough. Most of them, he knows he can talk around and deceive well enough. But then there’s Major Kira and her Bajoran wildcat Toral, deep orange and with large blue eyes that never miss a thing, legs always bent as though to pounce unless with the major or Odo. And then there’s Odo, the shapeshifter, the enigma. He carries a tribble with him everywhere, whispering comforting things to it, but Garak can’t decide if it’s a daemon or a pet. He wouldn’t be the only alien without a conventional soul and he never sees the tribble do anything un-tribble like. Eyal nips at the ridge at the bottom of his neck pointedly. “And to Terok Nor.”

 “Deep Space Nine.” Garak corrects her in a chiding tone, running one finger down the side of her left wing as he quickly surveys the promenade. There are no Bajorans near his humble shop at the moment, and Garak can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief at that. His charm can only take him so far against what is, for the moment at least, well-deserved bias. Garak’s loyalty to Cardassia means he has been no friend to Bajor, and if he is to return to Cardassia alive, he needs both of them to be on their toes and not sniping with each other _too_ much, as much of a worthy challenge he presented himself. “And if you’ll remember, Eyal, you played a part in that as well.”

 “I represent your soul. Any action I took was because of your ambition and _sentiment._ ” Eyal says the last word like it’s a curse, fluffing her feathers out as she hops up his arm so she can glare at him all the more effectively.

  Garak lets out a low huff, his own nerves starting to rise as he watches the way Eyal’s gaze shoots around the promenade, as it stops on each shop, trying to figure out the space. Trying to figure out which shops they can enter and which they can’t, where it will become overwhelming and terrifying and where they’ll be enough air for them to breathe and fly. He runs a hand down her wing as it slowly comes to rest back by her side, trying to give her comfort he obviously doesn’t feel himself.

 “We’ll make our way back to Carassia, Eyal. We won’t leave it in the hands of Dukat, I promise you that.” Garak whispers into her ear softly, lips curling in disgust at the thought. For Dukat of all people to have risen so easily through the ranks galled him. It should have been him or Tain, or even Kelas if he was a little less noble. Anyone but _Dukat_. Yet that’s where his beloved Cardassia stands, in the hands of cruel, selfish despots who wouldn’t understand the meaning of sacrifice no matter how many _Enigma Tales_ they read. But no, Garak can’t give himself over to bitterness. Not when there is work to be done here, contacts to be made and allies to be discovered, ways to aid Cardassia even if he can’t set foot on his homeland.

 “Don’t make promises, Elim, it’s not Cardassian.” Eyal tells him in a low huff, even though her eyes glitter with the same hope that still burns in his chest, though it’s more kindling and smoke than anything else now. Eyal flies off of his wrist only to land neatly on his left shoulder, gaze burrowing down to where the lilac of his mark sticks out of the edge of his sleeve. “That trill soulmate of yours must be influencing you from afar.”

 “We don’t know that they’re a trill.” Garak murmurs as he runs his right hand over the thin purple lines, momentarily turning a deep indigo before fading back to the more muted shades he’s had to adjust to over the last 11 years. Garak can’t believe his soulmate still has the gall to have none of the colors match even after they lost the vibrancy that defined the first fifteen years. Garak doesn’t miss those colors exactly - he’s not fond of his arm looking like a kaleidoscope - but he stills feels a sense of loss every time he looks down at the mark, which seems to be fighting so hard to be brighter than it is. But maybe that’s just Garak’s dreaded sentiment trying to fight it’s way to the surface and bleed out on his skin.

 Eyal leans over and pecks at the edge of the mark, not quite hard enough to break the skin. She peers down at the mark for a moment, as though expecting the colors to shift and form into something. They don’t of course, and Eyal lets out a note that reminds Garak of a mourning Bajoran songbird. “They haven’t settled yet and they’d be 26, what else could they be?”

 “Someone who doesn’t know themselves very well, or someone who is afraid to.” Garak muses as he pulls the sleeve back a few inches, the lilac fading to reveal a burnt orange and a brown that has flecks of gold coded throughout, as though some of that shine, that specialness is trying to push its way back out. He runs a hand over it, imagining the golden person that must go with it with a fondness he wishes he didn't feel. But then, gold’s also malleable, and Garak hads to admit that the idea of having someone to create and shape is more than a little enticing. Maybe it’s for the best they aren’t settled yet. “Someone who needs a push to see exactly what they are.”

 “Such a romantic, Elim.” Eyal intones with just a hint of sarcasm as she preens her feathers boredly. Garak can’t tell if it’s because she’s bored with his musings or because she disapproves of his dreams, or if she just thinks he’s arrogant to think he could bend his soulmate to his will. Garak gives the last one some thought, smirking as he pulls his sleeves down. Eyal is right; he would much prefer a soulmate who gave him a challenge. Surrender is so much sweeter that way.

* * *

Jules - but no, not Jules. His parents just told him they killed Jules when he was six years old and replaced him with a better model, like his life was nothing more than the ending of the _Stepford Wives_. No wonder his father had been upset when he’d gotten that book from the library. He’d probably been afraid that Julian would put two and two together and realize that he’s just a little too perfect - but _no._  He’s not perfect. He’s not Khan Noonien Singh. He’s … he’s Julian Bashir, and he is far smarter than he should be, quicker, a little too agile, but he is not perfect. Julian misses social cues all the time and is arrogant (and oh, but doesn’t that give him pause now), and stubborn to the point that it incenses everyone around him. He is deeply, deeply flawed and he must never forget that, no matter how smart he might feel.

 So it’s not Jules but Julian who runs up the stairs, Kukalaka darting behind him as a cat as they go through his door, which he slams so hard it almost looks like it’s going to come off the hinges. Right, because that is something Julian can do, if he’s got enough energy and isn’t careful enough. He supposes he should just be grateful his parents only made him like a Vulcan and not a Klingon. Julian takes a few deep breaths, trying to modulate himself as he slides down the wall and closes his eyes. He doesn’t need to look down to know when Kukalaka climbs into his lap, velveteen fur indicating she’s back to being a rabbit. They’ve always liked that one.

 “They lied to us, Kukalaka.” Julian whispers, voice broken and a little raspy from all the screaming he’s done over the past few hours. He leans his head back against his drawer and stares at his tennis trophies and science fair first place medals, their warm glow suddenly mocking as he curls into himself. He didn’t earn _anything._  Everything good about him, everything that makes people love and hate him in equal measure, the things that he’s not allowed to share - and doesn’t that suddenly make a world of sense - that make his father look at him like he’s worth something. All of it is to the credit of several doctors and scientists on Adigeon Prime. “We aren’t special or brilliant or _anything._  We’re just Richard’s most successful project.”

 Kukalaka bats at him with her tiny rabbit hands and when Julian doesn’t open his eyes, breath just as heavy as it was a few seconds ago, she lets out a low frustrated noise. Then there is a heavy weight on his chest that makes Julian’s eyes fly open of their own accord. He raises an eyebrow tiredly as he comes face to face with a bobcat, though Kukalaka’s kind gaze is still there as she pushes her now large paws into his chest, and Julian’s sure he’d fall over if he weren’t already against a wall. “Jules, what are you talking about?”

 “Julian, call me Julian.” Julian corrects her in a tight voice, cringing as the name ‘Jules’ rings through the air. Kukalaka cocks her head to the side, eyes widening for a moment before they narrow, nodding tightly. Then she shifts again, shrinking down until she easily fits in his lap, her gaze is tired in the face of a red panda now. Julian smiles at her, hands shaking along with his voice. “Remember when we were in that hospital for so long? Months? It’s because they had us genetically enhanced. It wasn’t an issue, when I was younger, but now I’m getting just a bit too intelligent, a bit too quick, can see things just a little too far away to be natural.”

 “The game mom used to have us play.” Kukalaka whispers as she gazes around the room almost in time with him, as though they both just made the same revelation. Always kick the ball a little less far than he can, always run a bit slower, always get at least a few answers on tests wrong. That way the other kids wouldn’t hate him and he supposes that, at least, wasn’t a lie. Julian lets out a laugh that sounds almost like a sob, fingers curling carefully into Kukalaka’s soft fur.

 “It was because she didn’t want everyone to know we’re a freak.” Julian answers her unfinished thought, bitterness coloring his voice as he glances at all his second and third place ribbons now. He’s torn between feeling bitter because he could have been first every single time and between feeling guilty because he shouldn’t have a single prize. He shouldn’t exist, even if it is a medical and scientific marvel that he does at all. A genetically engineered human without a disposition for madness or violence, whose arrogance and quirks are relatively harmless. He was wrong. Julian _is_ special, but only because he wasn’t.

 “We’re not a freak.” Kukalaka snaps in the same heated voice she uses whenever Richard calls him arrogant or his mother looks at him like he’s something she should be ashamed of - which Julian _is_ \- fur bristling at the word freak as she sits back on his laps to meet his gaze.

 Julian reaches a hand out to brush against her fur and then stops, arm hanging in mid-air because Kukalaka is right. She’s not a freak, because she isn’t his. She belonged to a happy little boy named Jules whose parents decided he wasn’t good enough, that they’d rather have a son who was smart even if he was miserable. So instead they replaced him, switched out Kukalaka’s person with a well-made doll. No wonder Kukalaka hasn’t settled, how can she, when there’s no soul for her to be attached to, just the shards of one that was destroyed years ago? “No, no you’re not.”

 “Jules?” Kukalaka whispers, voice laced with fear in a way he’s never heard before. More signs she’s not his, because Julian doesn’t feel anything right now. He carefully picks her up and places her on the floor next to him, wrapping his arms around himself to keep from the temptation of touching her again. After all, it’s borderline a crime to touch someone else’s daemon without permission, and it’s certainly not anything Julian is going to put Kukalaka through anymore now that he knows.

 “Julian, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -” Julian starts and then stops, wincing at how weak his voice sounds to his own ears. He needs to be stronger than this. He owes that much to Jules. He owes him a life, he owes him Kukalaka. Julian glances down to find her now a small robin, hopping back and forth on one leg. She always did like to be birds when she was nervous. He gives her a weak smile he knows reaches nowhere near his eyes, voice coming out strangled. “What do you think Jules Bashir would’ve wanted to settle as?”

 “I don’t understand the question.” Kukalaka says after a moment, frowning as she hops onto the other foot, expanding out into a seagull this time. Then she hops again, that familiar old rabbit staring up at him with so much hurt that it makes Julian shudder. He’s taken this daemon, beautiful and pure and whatever Jules was, and corrupted her, left her nothing more than a Velveteen Rabbit badly brought to life. He wonders if Richard considered Kukalaka at all, when he decided to get rid of Jules.

 Julian swallows as he forces himself up from the wall, walking past Kukalaka and ignoring her bumping against his leg, the way she bats at him whenever she wants him to lift her up, too lazy to shift. But he will never touch her again. Julian gives her a tired smile as her gaze grows more confused and more hurt bleeds in, until she finally shifts again, this time into a raven that lands at the foot of his bed. Still unsettled, always unsettled, unless he can find a way to set her free and - oh. Oh. He can. Julian is a genius and there are decades of research on Daemon bonds. He just needs to know where to look. “No, of course you don’t, how could you? But don’t worry, you will.”

 Julian stops touching Kukalaka after that, tries again and again in vain to explain to her why he can’t, why it’s wrong for him to. She doesn’t understand, still feels connected to whatever tattered bits of Jules still cling to him, if any. She has no idea she’s attached to … whatever he is. But eventually she stops pushing, stops trying to argue and instead settles for sitting on his lap or his shoulders, sometimes his wrists if her form is small enough. Julian can’t deny her that much, especially in public where his pushing her off his lap would look more than a little suspicious.

 Julian is still looking for a way to separate them that won’t kill Kukalaka and for a way to explain why his soul suddenly disappeared when he arrives on Deep Space Nine, Kukalaka flying in circles that would make him dizzy if he weren’t genetically engineered. Years ago, when they first joined Starfleet, they (or as Kukalaka insisted, _Julian_ ) decided that she would be a hummingbird around other people to avoid attracting suspicion. After all, a 27 year old without a settled daemon would draw attention, and that’s one thing that Julian can’t afford.

 So, suffice to say he’s not thrilled when Kukalaka freezes mid-spin, staring over at the greyhound by the door with a small trilling noise. Julian glances down at the greyhound on his right wrist, the same mottled coat and kind eyes staring at him from his wrist and across the room. He swallows a curse and pushes his way into a crowd of people before Kukalaka or the greyhound can react, finding a table in the back of the replimat. He has stolen so much from Jules Bashir already, he won’t steal his soulmates too.

 Julian sits down and glances across the room, trying to regain some of his bearings as he carefully memorizes the faces around him, seeking out signs of illness he might need to treat soon. Then he sees a Cardassian raven fly overhead, black wings glistening an eerie blue in the synthetic lights. No.

  He can feel Kukalaka tugging on his left sleeve, where the same bird rests across his wrist like a warning sign. Julian shoots her an icy glare, the same temperature as his veins when he sees the Raven land on the man walking towards them, solid and handsome and alien in all the ways that Julian likes, and he can't believe the universe would give Jules a soulmate that was just his type. It almost made him believe in the prophets, because how could science betray him like this?

 “Remember, until I find a way to … split us, you can’t acknowledge either of them.” Julian whispers to Kukalaka as he manages to pull his hand free, making a mental note to find something more solid to cover his marks with, maybe bracelets or cuffs. The man keeps walking toward them and Julian drops his gaze to his tea, trying to swallow the nerves building in his stomach with each footstep he hears. He can do this, he can avoid this man and the other man and just keep going with his research. Then, well, then Julian supposes they can have joint custody over Kukalaka. Who knows, maybe they’ll even fall in love.

 “I know, you’ve told me a million times, I’m more worried about you.” Kukalaka snaps in a huffy voice, one that borders on the melodramatic, one that is at once painfully familiar to Julian and also just out of reach. She crawls up his arm to pull at his hair instead, though he notices her touch is a bit more gentle this time, almost reassuring. Julian shakily looks up to find himself face to face with a raven with a piercing gaze and a Cardassian with a knowing smile, and he has no idea which is more dangerous or how this man could have possibly been Jules’ other soulmate.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Miles isn't sure if what he thinks is right, Julian knows he is despite all evidence to the contrary, and Garak's the closest to actually getting it.

Miles has prayed to Gods he didn’t believe in when he got called down to the sickbay, hoping that Julian Bashir would be off-duty or on a mission somewhere or just, well, not there. But no, Julian was in the sickbay, talking as much a year later as he did the first day that Miles met him. He asks Miles a million questions at a breakneck speed, Miles answering most of them in one word, two when absolutely necessary. Then Julian launches into a lengthy explanation of a book he’s read recently, and Miles has no idea what he asked to prompt this speech.

 “... Now that’s not even getting started yet on the physiological differences in the mitral valve in Bajorans as compared to other humanoids. It’s subtle but the slight difference in the way it attaches to the … I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” Julian cuts himself off suddenly after several minutes, looking down sheepishly as he bites his lip. Kukalaka makes a few trilling noises even after, bouncing on Julian’s shoulder and fluttering her wings as though to let Miles know Julian wasn’t _really_ done talking. As though he ever was.

 “What? Of course not, sir.” Miles mutters instead, running a hand down Murphy’s back and not meeting Julian’s eye. The other man makes a small, huffy noise deep in the back of his throat, and he’s got one eyebrow raised when Miles looks up at him. Maybe the doctor isn’t quite as oblivious as he thought. Miles gives him a rueful smile, Murphy letting out a small bark as she inches closer to Julian. “Maybe a little.”

 “Right, it’s just so fascinating, you know? And that’s not even getting started on the chemical shifts that occur in Trill’s cardiovascular muscles when the symbiote is attached.” Julian explains in a borderline dreamy voice, eyes practically glowing with excitement as he points to a chart Miles can’t even begin to make sense of. Murphy lets out a small sigh of exasperated fondness at the same time Miles grunts at Julian. Miles shoots her a right look, because don’t tell him she’s starting to _like_ the doctor.

 “Look, sir.” Miles starts in a resigned voice, preparing for Julian to try and then fail to simplify Trillian physiology. Usually he kept it far too advanced for anyone who hadn’t spent a few years at Starfleet Medical, though sometimes he went the opposite way and it was borderline insulting, how much smarter he thought he was than everyone else.

 But Miles doesn’t have to deal with either of those possibilities, a Bolian ensign with a gnarly looking burnt leg, his face pinched in agony, is carried into the infirmary by a sandy haired Bajoran man. His face is as white as the swan at his heels, one that had a purple, squirrel-like daemon sitting anxiously on their back. Julian turns suddenly, Kukalaka settling on his shoulder, no more bouncing or trilling. She’s analyzing the injury along with Julian, both of them tilting their head to the right at the same time as Julian carefully grips the Bolian ensign’s shoulders, helping the Bajoran carry him to a biobed.

 “Here, What happened?” Julian asks as he kneels down by the injury, running a tricorder across the burn. He furrows his brow, lips curled as Kukalaka flaps her wings twice. Julian shakes his head, voice soft as he stands up to look down at the Bolian, smile gentle as he presses his hand on his shoulder. “A burn almost to the bone? On base?”

 “Accident with the phaser in the holosuite.” The Bolian answers as he also immediately looks up at the ceiling in time with the purple squirrel, whose since climbed off the swan to run up the side of the hospital bed. The Bajoran flushes a deep scarlet, biting his lip and - oh.

 Miles tried to pretend he’s focused on fixing the control panel, though Murphy keeps nudging his leg and making low growls under her breath, a clear sign she wants him to get closer to the gossip. Miles swears she actually gets that from Keiko.

 “I’m guessing I don’t want to know the details?” Julian murmurs with a wry smile, teasing but warm in a way that makes Miles grin involuntarily. Julian isn’t so bad, when he’s more like this and less … well, just less, Miles supposes. Kukalaka makes a few chirping noises as she flies over to Julian’s other shoulder, because apparently he’s not the only one with a daemon who likes a bit of gossip.

 “No, sir, I can’t imagine that you would.” the ensign answers as he looks down at his hands, Julian giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder and mouthing something along the lines of ‘we’ve all been there’ - and Miles has to bite his tongue to keep from pointing out that no, they all _haven’t_ \- before kneeling down to start healing the burn. Miles turns back to pretending to fix the control panel, glancing over every so often to find the burn a little more healed. Before five minutes has passed, it’s like nothing was ever there at all, skin a bright blue again. The ensign swallows, meeting Julian’s gaze as he carefully rolls to his feet. “Are you going to umm, report this?”

 Julian grins brightly, but his gaze is soft and reassuring as he helps the ensign to the door, glancing between him and the Bajoran man as though trying to create a sense calm. Probably needs to, since the man is still bright red. “Not my style, but next time keep your holosuite games _games,_  all right?”

 Miles watches as Julian switches to doctor mode, focused intently on his work while also talking the Bolian and Bajoran through every part of the procedure. His voice is warm and friendly, making jokes at the right moments and being serious when he needed to be. The atmosphere manages to inspire confidence and trust at the same time, an easy humor and warmth alongside the medicine. It’s a careful balance, one Miles wouldn’t have expected Julian to be able to manage this so well. But then, Miles has never seen him at work before. Turns out there’s a reason he’s here, and Miles can’t help but admire him a little bit more than he did before.

 “He’s damn good at his job, I’ll give him that.” Miles grunts with a quick shake of the head, one hand running over Murphy’s ears while the other starts on the control panel in earnest this time.

 “I bet you end up calling him Julian after all.” Murphy whispers as she shifts closer to him, so her paws press against his knee. Miles rolls his eyes, grip on his screwdriver growing a bit tighter. He can’t quite keep from following Murphy’s gaze to Kukalaka, who’s currently hopping around by one of Julian’s pads, tiny legs moving as fast as Julian’s deft fingers. He might be starting to - not like him, but respect the doctor. That’s all.

 “Shut up, Murphy, I’m just saying he handled that well.” Miles says quietly as he tries to get his focus back on the control panel. He waits for a few moments, expecting Julian to go back to his little speech about the differences in how hearts form in the various humanoids on the ship. When that doesn’t happen, Miles glances over at the other man to find him still typing on his padd, gaze more intense than Miles has ever seen it, Kukalaka still where she rests on his shoulder. “He forgot I was here, didn’t he?”

 Murphy twists around to watch Julian typing away, hands spreading across the padd with a grace that reminds Miles a bit of a piano players. Whatever research he’s focused on has clearly taken precedence over annoying him. Miles feels something twist in his chest at that, something he doesn’t even understand. Murphy bumps her nose against his leg, smile somehow smug as she circles him. “Are you upset about that?”

 Miles chooses not to answer.

* * *

“I think Miles mostly hates me.” Julian mumbles as he slides onto his couch a few days after the other man came to his lab, closing his eyes and letting out a low huff. Julian frowns tightly as he stares at the empty space of his wall. Kukalaka, currently in the form of a lemur, climbs into his lap and looks up at him, and Julian’s convinced this is the closest she can come to smirking. He swallows, throat suddenly dry, because of course she’d be smug about this. Julian hadn’t planned on liking Miles or wanting to be liked by him at all. “Which is a good thing.”

 “Reminding me or yourself?” Kukalaka asks as she stares up at him, suddenly shifting into a slim forest green snake as she wraps around his arm, head resting against the palm of his hand. Julian’s pretty sure she’s forcing him to break his no touch policy, but Julian’s too selfish to make her move. Kukalaka’s voice comes out in a tired hiss. “And how can it be a good thing for our soulmate to hate us?”

 “Miles hates me, not you, you he’ll take after everything is said done.” Julian assures her, free hand clutching against the arm of his couch to keep from running a hand down her comfortingly. She’s not his. “Garak, though … honestly I have no idea how he feels about either of us, beyond finding us amusing.”

 “You like him.” Kukalaka says firmly, wrapping herself more tightly around his arm as she stares up at him. Julian blinks owlishly, hand digging into the side of his couch a bit deeper. He never knows what to do when Kukalaka looks at him like that, like she can through all of his carefully executed masks and lies to whatever is underneath, if there’s anything at all. No one else, nothing else, does.

 Well, not until Garak, anyway.

 “I do, but I know that … this is all there can ever be between us.” Julian murmurs softly, gazing down at the black cuff wrapped around his left his wrist. He’s started wearing them since he got to the station, easily hidden by the sleeves of his uniform. He smiles wistfully, wondering what could have been, would have been, if he’d somehow stayed whole after what his parents did to him.

  Julian … he loves his mind, he loves how quickly he can understand and retain information, how nimble his fingers are, how he processes the world, even it makes him come off as strange or annoying sometimes (and a part of Julian thinks Jules was like that too, that his parents didn’t change as much as they thought, but he can’t know and Kukalaka has never told him if she sees any remnants of Jules in him).

 But Julian can never know if Jules would’ve traded his soulmates and his identity for this mind and body, if his existence is worth what was lost.

 Kukalaka presses her head further into his palm, comforting in a strange way as her body weaves around until only her head rests in his hand. Then she shifts, white fur and long floppy ears beneath his fingertips, and this, he ia sure, is cheating. He still doesn’t push her off his lap. “This? This being lunch? You want to limit your bond to the replimat?”

 “And Quark’s.” Julian answers with a roll of his shoulders, slightly dislodging her so his fingers no longer pressed against her, though her head still rested in his hands. Julian supposes he can allow that much, as long as he doesn’t touch. Julian gives her a weak smile, gaze going far away as he lets out a resigned sigh. “Besides, once I split myself from you, chances are I’ll lose whatever novelty I held for Garak.”

 “Julian.” Kukalaka whispers, staring up at him with wide, hurt eyes. Julian bites back the sneering ‘hypocrite’ on the tip of his tongue, just because Kukalaka is finding loopholes to their long-held rules doesn’t mean he needs to. They agreed, long ago when he was barely at Starfleet, that he wouldn’t talk about his research into separating them too often and she wouldn’t try to destroy it. He supposes twice in a six month period is one times too many.

 “Right.” Julian murmurs, deciding it’s better to avoid confrontation. He hates arguing with Kukalaka, hates seeing the resigned frustration in her expression. Julian can’t help wondering how much she misses Jules at times like that. “What do you think of Murphy and Eyal?”

 “It’s hard to think anything of them when you won’t let me talk to them, Julian.” Kukalaka sniffs as she finally shifts off of his hand, sitting more squarely in his lap as she shifts into a small grey cat. Julian wonders if she wanted a form that better showed her disdain for his question and lets out a dry laugh in spite of himself.

 “I’m sorry, Kukalaka, it just isn’t fair to either of them or Garak and Miles.” Julian reminds her softly, pressing his hands together because the urge to reach out and hold her has only gotten worse since he got to Starfleet months ago, since he started having lunch with Garak and following Miles around like a puppy looking for a bone. Kukalaka needs to be separated before he gives into his whims rather than his ideals. “Not until I’ve set you free.”

 “Murphy is steady and solid, loyal and smarter than you’d guess on first glance.” Kukalaka tells him after a moment, pointedly ignoring what he just said. Kukalaka shifts into a rabbit, dusty brown this time. She hops a bit onto his lap, long ears twitching and Julian can’t help but match her fondness with a warm smile. That sounds just right for Miles, who Julian knows he can trust with his life even though the other man at best finds him annoying. “Eyal is … mysterious. Kinder and more romantic than you might think, but also more dangerous.”

 And God knows that sounds like Garak, who confuses him and evades all his questions at every turn, but with just enough charm and warmth that Julian can’t help but keep coming back to lunch week after week. After all, it’s not like Garak is the worse liar of the two of them. At least he hints at the truth. Julian can’t do even that much. “But not to you?”

 “Oh no, Julian, especially to us.” Kukalaka corrects him primly as she hops off his lap, sliding out into a red fox as she curls up on the rest of the couch. For once, Julian can’t bring himself to correct her on the ‘us’. No matter who he is or isn’t, Julian can’t help thinking that loving Garak would hurt him in the end either way.  After all, he might not be Jules, but Jules also wasn’t Cardassia.

* * *

“You’re going to ask him out to lunch again aren’t you?” Eyal murmurs into his ear, nipping at the edge of it sharply. Garak sighs airily, bringing up a hand to gently poke her in the wing. She isn’t wrong, of course. He is planning on seeing if he can cajole the doctor into two lunches this week, in part just to make sure that his charm remains untainted by the confines of deep space 9. God knows it hasn’t been good for his mind. But for now, at least, he’s more focused on recruiting Julian to help him come a little bit closer to Cardassia.

 Eyal makes the clicking sound with her beak that she reserves for when she thinks his lies are failing him. “I don’t understand why you don’t just confront him.”

 “Yes, you do, you find this anomaly as fascinating as I do.” Garak reminds her as they slide through the doctor’s door, footsteps silent as they walk across the white carpet. There’s very little in the room to indicate anyone calls it home, the carefully organized pads on Julian’s coffee table the only sign that someone lives here. Garak finds himself at once disappointed and intrigued. He’d hoped to learn more about his erstwhile soulmate when he saw his quarters, but a million possibilities come to mind for why Julian might be afraid to reveal anything.

 “Maybe, if I thought you were right about Julian.” Eyal points out coolly, jumping off his shoulder to fly a few feet in front of him. She stops just in front of what Garak assumes must be Julian’s bedroom. Garak notes that he sleeps with the door closed but not locked, and wonders the best way to teach the young man better. Eyal tuts at him pointedly. “We can’t be sure, Kukalaka has never been anything but a hummingbird, and this wouldn’t be the first time you were led astray by a pretty face.”

 “Eyal, careful. Do you think the doctor really wants to hear about his beauty from a tired old lizard?” Garak asks with a light huff as he comes to stand by her side, still not looking into the room yet. He’d rather let his imagination play for a bit, envisioning the warm golden skin that might be revealed to him, the soft hazel eyes he might find staring up at him, hooded from sleep.

 “Why don’t you ask him?” Eyal scoffs, though there’s a slight hint of amusement to her voice, as though she knows something he doesn’t. She usually does; it’s one of the things Garak likes and hates about his soul with equal measure.

 “I wouldn’t dream of being so forward with the doctor this early in our friendship.” Garak murmurs with a slow shake of the head, eyes wide as though he’s insulted by her words. She makes no sound, but he can feel her eyes boring into his back all the same. Garak has, of course, considered seducing Julian many times in many, many different ways. He has no doubt they would all be successful, not with the way Julian stares at him with bright smiles and eager eyes. But Julian is different than his other conquests and marks, the mark on Garak’s wrist and the doctor’s ridiculous, kind gaze giving him a regretful level of importance to Garak.

 “Of course not, we wouldn’t want to frighten him away.” Eyal chirps as she flies over to him, clawed feet digging into his shoulder as they take a few steps toward the door. If they’re going to find out the truth about these Cardassian orphans, Garak knows they’ll need help and the doctor is his best, arguably only, option. His compassionate nature combined with his misguided trust in Garak make him the perfect ally here.

 Garak takes a deep breath and pushes the door open without it so much as making a squeak, gaze immediately drawn to the bed. Julian’s pajamas are, regrettably, somehow even more modest than his uniform, shiny blue material covering his entire neck. But that isn’t what makes Garak take in a breath, his world coming to a temporary halt. No, that would be Kukalaka, reclining on the edge of the bed, soft and red and mammalian, her long fluffy tail and paws hanging off the edge. Oh.

 “This is better than the hummingbird, but it still isn’t what they’re meant to be.” Eyal mutters into his ear, voice dropping to a decibel that not even a Ferengi would be able to hear. They probably don’t need to be quite so silent for Julian, but then Garak’s seen his friend flinch, almost imperceptibly, at the slightest of noises. Kukalaka too.

 “”So you never doubted it after all.” Garak whispers in the same tone, clicking his tongue a bit at the end in affront. For Eyal to carry on like she has the last few months, playing devil’s advocate every time Garak felt sure that Julian must be his soulmate, that the cuffs hid the truth from them both.

 “No, but you did.” Eyal corrects him gently, fluttering her wings a bit as they stand in the doorway. Garak frowns tightly, staring at the doctor’s face, soft and open in sleep in a way that makes his chest hurt. Any second now, they’ll need to start this mission in earnest, need to wake Julian and Kukalaka up. They’ll have to do it carefully, make sure that they both think Kukalaka had time to shift back into that ridiculous looking bird before they saw them.

 “I don’t deserve him, I could break him as easily as I could save him.” Garak says softly, the truth slipping from his mouth almost against his will. He’s gotten so used to lying, even to Eyal, that it feels wrong to speak that truth so carelessly. But Julian is idealistic and, in his own way, innocent. Garak has never been either.

 “At least he knows that.” Eyal tells him softly as she brushes her feathers over his face, and Garak’s eyes widen as he stares over at her. Yes, he supposes, knowing that would explain those cuffs on his wrist, the longing etched into the doctor’s face every time they meet even though he makes no attempt to form a bond. Julian is afraid of him.

 Garak has never been prouder of the dear doctor.

* * *

Miles can be a man of firm opinions, but he’s also willing to admit when he’s wrong. And he was wrong about Julian Bashir. Well, not entirely wrong, the other man could talk too much and be a little too superior, and he was an awful flirt. But he was also funny and kind, loyal and dedicated to his job. Miles realized that after Julian saved his life; he was a good man and a good friend.

  So when he’s sees the other man drinking tea by himself in the replimat, Miles walks over, smile warm as he slides his lunch on the table. Julian stills, gaze shooting up from his pad and eyes wide as he looks at Miles’ tray and then back at him, as though in shock that Miles sat with him. Murphy makes a sound that Miles is pretty sure means he deserves that a little, and maybe he does.

 “Julian, you want to play a few games of racquetball tomorrow?” Miles asks across the table, smiling when he watches his friend - and yes, he decides, Julian is that now - eyes brighten. He wonders if Julian’s ever had an emotion that didn’t immediately translate to his face. Julian takes a sip of his tea as though to try and hide how excited he is by the invitation, though the way Kukalaka is flapping her wings gives him away pretty clearly.

 “Sure - wait a minute.” Julian cuts himself off, frowning tightly as he peers over at Miles, hazel eyes narrowed. Miles blinks a bit, not quite sure what hidden dangers Julian could possibly be seeing in a game. Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time a game turned out to be dangerous either. Not on this ship. But then Julian speaks again, a hint of wary confusion in his voice. “Keiko is still on the station. I just saw her in the replimat a few hours ago.”

 “Yeah, being her husband and all, I’m kind of aware.” Miles scoffs with a rough chuckle, Murphy imitating him with her bark as she shifts so she’s in between him and Julian under the table. Julian glances down and pulls his feet back, endlessly polite about how much space he keeps from other people’s daemons. Miles wishes he was that aware, having bumped into more than one in his day. It was always awkward. Julian though, always seems to pull away when any daemon got within a foot of him, like he thought he might hurt their soul or something. It was kind of sweet.

 “But you’re still asking _me_ to play racquetball? Are you feeling alright, chief?” Julian asks in strangled voice, eyes almost comically wide. Miles winces a bit at that, scrunching his eyebrows together as he takes in the hint of dismay on Julian’s face. He wasn’t that mean to him the first year or so here, was he? Had he missed his chance? Was Julian not interested in being friends anymore?

 “Well, I won’t ask if you’re going to make such a big deal out of it.” Miles grouses as he stares down at his plate, the roasted potatoes suddenly far more interesting than Julian’s face. He doesn’t want to see the pity there, or the dismay, or whatever it is Julian’s feeling for him. Miles can’t believe he’s thinking this, but he misses the over-eager Bambi eyes.

 “He’s just surprised you outwitted him, that’s all.” Murphy whispers to him under the table, pressing her head against his legs with a look that manages to be smug and worried at the same. Miles frowns a little, because he has no idea what that even means. Outwitted Julian how? But when he looks up, Julian is blushing a bit, expression tentatively hopeful as he gives Miles a quick nod. Huh, maybe Murphy was onto something after all.

 “Murphy!” Miles snaps as the realization hits him and he presses his pointer finger to his mouth, reminding her that she needs to be a little less blunt … except wait no. Julian can’t understand her. Huh. Then what was Julian looking so embarrassed about anyway? Maybe he just realized that his surprise had been kind of rude. God knows Julian could be a bit oblivious sometimes. “What she said is that we’ll see you at the courts tomorrow at 1800 hours.”

 “Be careful, I won’t go easy on you, Miles.” Julian tells him with a bit of a smirk, voice cheerful and eager again as he rolls to his feet. Whatever tension or worry there was earlier seems to have faded, expression almost too enthusiastic. Julian gives him and Murphy both a quick wave, mumbling something about his research before he turns and walks out of the replimat. Miles watches him go almost in spite of himself, frowning a bit at the tension in the other man’s shoulders.

 “It doesn’t make sense.” Murphy murmurs once Julian is out of the replimat completely, a slight growl following her words. Miles presses a hand against her back, rubbing her ears soothingly.

 “That he thinks he can beat me so easily when I won last time? I agree.” Miles mutters as he takes another bite of his sandwich with his free hand, trying to focus on the taste of the roast beef in his mouth instead of the questions hanging in the air. He, okay, Miles is pretty sure he _likes_ Julian at this point, enough that his strange behavior worries him. It wasn’t like Julian to cut and run after barely saying anything.

 “No, that she’s a hummingbird.” Murphy whispers as she presses her head against his knees, brown eyes staring up at his pointedly. Miles swallows his roast beef and grunts noncommittally. When he first met Julian, he’d thought a hummingbird was perfect for him, always moving, always talking incessantly. But now, he was inclined to agree with Murphy. There was something off there, Miles just isn’t sure what or _how._ Daemons don’t settle wrong …

* * *

“Doctor, what a pleasant surprise.” Garak calls when Julian walks into his shop, smile somehow aloof and desperate at the same time. Julian was so much more complex than he let on, especially now that Garak knows he’s the swirling pastels on his wrist, colors that frankly don’t suit the doctor at all. The occasional bright flashes, the moments the mark goes back to the wild freedom of his youth, that’s when the mark feels like Julian. Though speaking of colors, the bright orange sweater the doctor wore now was … unfortunate. “Have you decided to finally let me fix that garish wardrobe of yours?”

 “Not today, Garak.” Julian murmurs as he comes to stand in front of him, gaze a bit softer as he gives Garak a once over he thinks is subtle. Precious. Julian fiddles with his hands for a second, long, slim fingers pressing against each other as though in prayer. Then Julian looks up at him through his eyelashes, a hopeful sheepishness in his gaze. “I thought you might want to have lunch with me.”

 “Why my dear doctor, this isn’t our normal appointment.” Garak says as he raises his eyebrow ridges, trying to act as though he’s surprised rather than expecting an uptick in how much time they spent together. As naive as he can be, Julian’s also brilliant, and the chances he doesn’t suspect they might be soulmates seems low. Especially with the way Kukalaka was flat out staring at Eyal, small chirps coming out of her mouth that sound flustered. Garak wonders when Julian will cave and let her speak to them for real. Garak leans in, brushing his elbow against Julian’s chest as he turns to grab a piece of cloth from the table. “You couldn’t wait to tell me how wrong you were about _The Gul Of Teyar?_ Or maybe more insisting that there is any eloquence to this Keats of yours?”

 “Both, if you’re up to it.” Julian answers back with a smirk, eyes flashing with a challenge as he leans towards Garak so that he’s practically pressed up against his side, gaze hooded. Then Julian gives him a genuine smile, slight and crooked and not at all like the one he gives the people he flirts with in Quark’s. “I suppose I just missed your company. I’ve gotten used to lunch being something of a debate.”

 “Have you now? How Cardassian of you.” Garak murmurs, not quite able to keep the fondness out of his voice or gaze. Julian shakes his head, closing his eyes as he does. His eyelashes are even longer than Garak thought, soft and sweeping like the man - but no. Garak isn’t one for sentiment.

 Kukalaka makes a few clicking noises, hopping around on Julian’s shoulder in what almost looks like a dance. Julian shoots her a look of disdain, though Garak doesn’t miss the smile tugging at his lips. He opens his eyes, gaze curious and thoughtful like during their most fierce literary debates, his hand curling under his chin so his pointer finger rests just under his ear. On the other shoulder, Kukalaka scoots closer to the edge, closer to Garak. Just not quite close enough to touch. “How so?”

 “Arguments are the basis for every significant relationship on Cardassia.” Garak answers him with a wide smile, moving in a bit so the doctor has to look into his eyes. Julian swallows a bit at the way Garak rolls the word relationship around in his tongue, his left hand firmly clasping the other man on the back. Garak lowers his voice, as though in confidence. “Why do you think Eyal and I or you and Kukalaka fight so much?”

 “Why am I not surprised? Is there any kind of fight you love more than wordplay?” Julian asks in a lilting voice, his accent wrapping around the words like silk. His tone and gaze is playful, almost impish as he darts toward Garak - only to pull back at the last minute. Julian shakes his head, hands suddenly clenched tightly at his side. Good, he remembers that Garak is too dangerous for him.

 “Doctor, just what are you trying to imply?” Garak half-whispers as he leans in, pressing his right hand flat against the doctor’s lower back this time. Julian flushes but doesn’t pull away, licking his lips lightly as he looks down at Garak through hooded eyes. Garak wonders if Julian has any idea what he looks like right now.

 “Nothing.” Julian mumbles, face flushing again as he stumbles out of Garak’s reach. He must have realized what he looked like just now. Garak grins at him, smooth and welcoming and completely disingenuous, holding up the hand that had been on his back like it’s a red letter. Julian stares at his hand almost longingly, but something has shifted in Julian, a stiffness to his frame that wasn’t there a few seconds ago. “I’ll see you at 13:00?”

 “I wouldn’t miss it.” Garak promises with a hint of a nod, gaze already back on the dress he’s altering, as though the tangerine fabric was more interesting than the way he knows Julian and Kukalaka glance back at them as they walk down the promenade. When he finally does look up, Julian and Kukalaka are nowhere to be found.

 “Why won’t he admit it?” Eyal sighs in a put out voice, nuzzling her face into his shoulder, feathers brushing along his neck ridges. She’s impatient, and Garak brushes a hand over her head gently. He understands how she feels: he’d like to play more interesting games with his soulmate as well. Eyal lets out a small huff as she nudges his cheek. “He’s clearly entranced with us.”

 “Your modesty is outstanding, Eyal.” Garak quips with a playful grin, one hand coming to brush across her feathers. Eyal preens under his touch, shifting so the light makes her feathers shine blue. He wonders if he can find the right lighting to match her to his favorite pieces in the store; it could help them sell better. Garak tries and fails to focus on that instead of the way Julian looks at him sometimes, affectionate and longing like he thinks Garak is the sun to his Federation.  A childish infatuation Garak wishes he didn't share. Then Garak lets out a small sigh, gaze dropping to the silk between his hands. “But of course he’s not going to admit he’s our soulmate, even if he suspects. He might love spies, but he knows how dangerous we are.”

 “That’s not what’s holding him back.” Eyal argues in a seemingly neutral voice, but Garak can hear the calculations in it. He flicks his gaze over to her with a slightly open mouth, as though the idea it could be something else hadn’t even occurred to him. Obviously that’s not true if it has occurred to Eyal, but Garak has put it considerably lower on his list of possibilities than his daemon, it seems.

 “Eyal?” Garak asks with a roll of his shoulders, hands deftly pressing a needle through the thread as though they don’t want to shake. He doesn’t want to ask directly - when do they ever do that, either of them - but he’d love to hear her reasoning. She can be even more clever than him when it comes to matters like this.

 “If it was that, he wouldn’t hide the fact that Kukalaka hasn’t shifted yet.” Eyal says almost boredly as she flaps her wings against his face again. Of course, Garak knows that is the crux of this, that Julian’s afraid of something and it isn’t, against all reason, them. But what exactly would scare Julian enough that he hadn’t shifted yet?

 “That could just be embarrassment. Humans settle as children typically.” Garak mutters as he keeps his gaze locked on the silk, waving one hand dismissively through the air. He doesn’t mean a word he says and Eyal knows it, nipping lightly at his hair before she hops down onto the silk. Garak simply cuts it around her, idly wondering if he could get her to wear a scarf made out of it someday. Eyal pulls on the fabric, tearing it slightly at the corner before gliding over his hand to shoot him a colder look.

 For a second neither of them say anything, the only sound in the shop the press of the needle against the fabric. Garak tried to focus on that and not the idea of Julian, the questions the other man creates for Garak about the Federation and humanity, the way his words cause hope to treacherously bubble in Garak's chest. Then Eyal comes to sit on his shoulder again, voice a whisper. “So why hasn’t Julian?”

 That, Garak supposes, is the question that would answer almost everything.

* * *

Julian swallows as he watches Garak lie on the bed, quieter than he’s been in all the time Julian’s known him. Just two days ago the other man was snapping at him on his way to lunch, and now Garak’s been unconscious for almost a day, withdrawal from the wire going even slower than Julian anticipated. And now all he and Kukalaka and even Eyal can do is wait and hope that Garak survives through the next few days. It’s not enough.

 Kukalaka leans in over his shoulder, wings thwacking him in the face as she moves them rapidly. Julian understands the feeling. Garak has been unconscious for hours. His condition hasn’t worsened, but nor has it improved in the slightest, body still a touch too light grey, breath just a bit too still. Julian glances at Eyal, chest tightening a bit. There is no sheen to her feathers, even in the bright light of the bio bed he’s set up in Garak’s quarters. “What’s wrong with him?”

 “He’s sick, in a sense.” Julian says steadily as he runs his tricorder over Garak for what feels like the third time in the past five minutes, not sure what else he can do. Garak’s completely out of it, no clever or even spiteful words to serve as some kind of reassurance to Julian, some indication that he’ll pull through in the end. He couldn’t let him keep using the implant, not when it was destroying him. But Julian still fears what taking away that much endorphin production at once might do to Garak, especially when he’s already in such a fragile state. “The implant in his brain, it’s malfunctioning from overuse.”

 “Can we help him?” Kukalaka asks softly bumping his thumb with her head, wings flapping anxiously as though to take the place of the hands he’s barely keeping from shaking. Julian wonders idly if this helplessness consuming him now is the closest he’s ever been to Jules. He wonders if all of those genetic enhancements will mean nothing in the end, one of his soulmates seeping through his - Kukalaka’s hands like dust.

 But no, he won’t let that happen. Not if he can help it.

 “Hopefully I’ll be able to, the science of withdraw in Cardassians isn’t well-documented.” Julian murmurs softly, crossing his arms as he sets the tricorder down on the Garak's side table. Julian gazes at his equipment for a moment, as though it might tell him something new if he just waits long enough. But patience has never been one of his virtues, so Julian turns to stare down at his sleeping … friend. Yes, friend. Garak might not be _his_ in the ways that count, in the ways Julian wishes he could be, but he’s still important to him. And Julian likes to think he’s something to Garak, even if it’s just a distraction during his exile or as a sounding board for all of his lies and opinions on literature. That would be enough.

 “You have to help him.” Kukalaka murmurs insistently as she pushes her head against him again, voice squeaking desperately. Julian doesn’t quite resist the urge to brush his thumb across her left wing, mouth impossibly dry as Garak’s vital signs start to drop a little. He feels like part of him is being ripped out through the seams.

 “You don’t have to, but his own cruel words aside, I’d prefer you did.” Eyal murmurs from where she’s keeping watch at the edge of his bed, her piercing gaze suddenly tightening on him. He meets her eyes and the determination from before comes back, even as his chest clenches a little as she flies over to his side, wings brushing against the edge of his sleeve.

 “Trust me Eyal, I’ll do everything I can.” Julian whispers as he stiffens his shoulders a bit, already knowing where and who he’ll have to go to. He’s done his research. If there’s one thing Julian excels at, its learning and he’s learned all he thinks he can about Enabran Tain. Now he just has to find him.

 “Thank you, Julian.” Eyal says without any emotion in her voice, but there’s a knowing in her gaze, a mixture of thankfulness and terror that make Julian sure she understands where he’s going. Julian swallows the urge to reach out and touch her too, hand suddenly pulling away from Kukalaka like it had been burned. Or, rather that it had burned her. He’s not Jules and he can’t cross these lines, no matter how much he wants to. But he thinks, if he’s quick enough and strong enough, he might be able to save Garak. He can offer Eyal and Kukalaka that much, if he can’t give them Jules.

 Julian leaves then, Kukalaka digging her talons in to his shoulder as they make their way to Tain. Julian’s not entirely confident he’ll come back to Deep Space 9 at all, but he knows he won’t come back without a way to save Garak. So he counts himself lucky when he comes back with that and his first name, the word Elim dancing across his lips like a curse and prayer all in one. It is a name worthy of the man, elegant and simple, soft and sharp, all at the same time. It’s a name meant for Jules that Julian got to hear instead.

 Still, he manages to save Garak’s life, and in the end, Julian has to think that’s what Jules would’ve wanted more.

 “He’ll survive, both of you will as well.” Julian mutters as he collapses on the chair next to Garak’s bed, hands pressing against his forehead. Garak is asleep again, but not in the way he was before, skin no longer holding an unnatural pallor and breath smooth and even in the quiet of his quarters. He is safe and he will survive. Julian slumps further into the chair, letting out a shaky laugh that’s too weak to be fully formed. He feels angry and exhausted and giddy with relief all at once, emotions swirling too fast for him to figure out which one to express. The mark on Garak’s arm suddenly brightens, a swirl of colors. He hopes that means Kukalaka is happy or at least something like it.

 “And you too.” Kukalaka calls, voice colored with hope as she flies toward Garak. She lands next to Eyal, in the slight space on the edge of the bed between where Garak lies and Julian sits in his armchair, close enough that if she spreads her wings, she could touch either of them.

 And then, just like that, she does. Julian feels his heart seize in his chest as her wings brush against Eyal’s, the room suddenly smelling like dates and chocolates, a chill running down his spine so strongly that he actually starts shaking. His heart is beating too fast, the air suddenly too strong, the scent making his mouth water -

 If that’s what a false bond felt like, Julian can’t begin to imagine what a real one would’ve felt like.

 “Kukalaka, you shouldn’t - I can’t stop you, can I?” Julian mumbles, voice coming out weaker than he’d like as he digs his right hand into his scalp, the left coming to rest against his cheek. He’s still shivering, the lingering scent of chocolate and dates still in the air and on his tongue. Kukalaka shakes her head and presses more against Eyal, feathers spreading out wide. Julian looks away before he can see what she feels from the bond, gaze instead on the biobed. Garak’s breathing is still even, pulse strong under Julian’s hand as he reaches out to hold his wrist just a bit too tightly. “At least Garak has the decency to be unconscious for this.”

 “But you’re not.” Eyal notes in a voice that sounds far too much like Garak for Julian’s comfort. Her gaze is the same as Kukalaka’s for a moment, cutting through all of Julian’s carefully cultivated subterfuge to see the imposter underneath. Julian sucks in a breath, waiting for Eyal to attack him or fly away, for some sign of betrayal to show on her face. Instead Eyal flies over to him and presses a tiny bird kiss to his forehead, gaze so kind it makes him flinch. That kiss - it isn’t, shouldn’t be for him. Then Eyal flies back to Kukalaka’s side, pressing her feathers against the soft fur of her coat. Julian’s not even sure when she shifted.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Garak and Eyal put everything together, Miles and Murphy know what they need to say, and Julian and Kukalaka shatter and start to heal all at once.

  "Not that I don’t enjoy racquetball, Miles, but we’ve played over 32 games since Keiko left.” Julian tells him as he takes a bite of his salad, gingerly holding up a strawberry to Kukalaka. She leans in takes a few tiny bites, pushing her feathers against Julian’s finger every few seconds. Julian shoots her a quick glare as a strange mixture of annoyance and longing comes over his expression. Murphy brushes up against him, his hand coming down to run along the long line of her flank and down towards her tail. Miles meets her gaze underneath the table, watches as she follows the slim lines of Julian’s fingers, close to but not quite - Oh. Oh. “We should try something new.”

 “You just want to drag me into one of your James Bond programs.” Miles groans as he shakes his head, brushing his hand across Murphy’s back while she lets out a tiny yelp. She’s never been a fan of those types of holosuites, always forced into playing his fearsome attack dog against whatever suave spy or mysterious gentleman-thief Julian wanted to try out that week.

  Julian gives him a quick, rueful grin, but his apologetic gaze drops over the edge of the table and down to Murphy, who lets out a grunting sound that feels like forgiveness. Kukalaka flaps her wings rapidly again, cerulean and emerald feathers flashing. For a second Miles swears he sees a hint of yellow in there too.

 “Actually I was thinking something a little different.” Julian tells him with a wide grin, sliding one hand onto the table as a familiar gleam comes into his eyes. Miles raises an eyebrow carefully, swirling his drink back and forth a few times nervously. That gleam could mean a riveting trek through the mountains or an exhilarating game of racquetball. It could also mean Miles having to rescue Julian from some ill-planned flirtation or a research project too complicated for anyone else on the ship to actually understand. “The Sicilian Expedition Of 415 BC? I thought we could be Athens, maybe examine the follies of the Federation via ancient history.”

 “You have a holosuite of that?” Miles asks with a gruff laugh, sliding back in the chair at the same time Murphy leans toward him. Murphy almost brushes up against Julian, but isn’t quite able to bridge the gap as Julian’s chair suddenly scatters backwards. Kukalaka hops down his arm to the edge of the cuff on his right wrist, leaning as close as she can to Murphy without letting go of Julian. Miles lets out an awkward cough, trying to draw both their attention back to him. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

 “More than you’d ever imagine.” Julian answers ruefully, gaze dropping so all Miles can see is those painfully long eyelashes and a smile that looks more like a grimace. Miles wonders sometimes if Julian knows how much shows on his face. Then Julian looks up at him, the grimace shifting to a more honest smile, the gleam from before coming back into his eyes. Miles can almost see the calculations and battle strategies spreading out across Julian’s mind, imagine which novels Julian’s going to find to try and get Miles to read with him so they can ‘better understand the atmosphere’, whatever that means. Julian stretches out across the table, arms spread out wide, fingers carefully pointed out so they brush against nothing but air even as Kukalaka hops across his knuckles and down his index finger. “Tomorrow at the holosuite? 21:00?”

 “Sure.” Miles says, brushing his hand over Murphy’s head, scratching behind her ears until she curls up toward him again and her tail brushes against his knees. He watches as Kukalaka flies off of Julian’s wrist to land on his shoulder, close to his neck so her teal feathers almost blend with the lines of his collar. Julian shoots her a quick, fondly exasperated glance out of the corner of his eye. Kukalaka makes a trilling noise and flaps her wings pointedly so they smack the bottom of his jaw. It wasn’t the first time something like this happened either. “Julian …”

 “Yes?” Julian murmurs as he looks up from the table, one of the hands spread out in excitement suddenly curling back towards himself and around the edge of his mug almost protectively. Miles sucks in a breath, because he hadn’t meant for the air to change so suddenly, a hint of tension spreading out across their table at the replimat so that everything feels just a bit heavier than it did a few seconds ago.

 Miles swallows tightly, gaze dropping to the mahogany swirl of coffee as he tries to figure out how to broach this subject. He knows it’s not his place, but well, he’s worried about Julian. He’s been kind of out of it lately, staring off into the distance at nothing at odd intervals, burying himself in research projects he refuses to talk about, avoiding Miles and _Garak_ some days and practically clinging to both of them on others, and honestly he’s basically been doing the same thing with Kukalaka, except that he never so much as pets one of her wings. It’s bizarre to Miles, who’s almost always petting or playing with Murphy. Hell, even Odo never puts down his tribble. But Julian ... “Why don’t you ever touch Kukalaka?”

 “She doesn’t like me to in public, she’s actually quite shy.” Julian answers him just a little too quickly, gaze darting around the room and landing nowhere near his face. Miles swallows the sarcastic ‘really’ that’s borderline acidic on the tip of his tongue, because if Julian’s going to lie to him, he’d at least like it to be _convincing_. Kukalaka spends most of her time walking up and down his arm, hitting him with her wings, or flying around his and Garak’s and Jadzia’s heads at an almost dizzying speed.

 Julian seems to realize his lie wasn’t believed, because he suddenly gives Miles a quick nod and jumps to his feet. His long limbs border on flailing as he waves and moves quickly out of the replimat. Murphy sits up and follows the sound of his swift paces until they’re beyond even her ears.

 “What do you think he’s afraid of?” Murphy whispers to him as she presses her head into his lap underneath the table, gaze locked into the chair Julian just abandoned. Miles swallows tightly, because that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Something he said just now made Julian turn and run. Julian, who didn’t back down from arguing with anyone or going on self-righteous missions whenever it struck his (or Garak’s) interest.

 “I don’t know, but something’s getting to him.” Miles mutters as feeds her one of his French fries from the palm of his hand, biting back a low sigh. It’s not all the time, hell, it’s not even most of the time, Julian spouting out long-winded stories and jokes, eyes bright and eager to solve all the problems in the universe, even when the universe is busy telling them all no. But lately, there are more and more moments like this, where Julian hides away from him, where he looks almost guilty just for spending time with him. At first he thought it was because of Keiko, but Keiko likes Julian, found him amusing and clever long before Miles ever did, so that’s not the problem.

 “Or been getting to him and now it’s starting to get to Kukalaka and us too.” Murphy lera out a low huff, digging her head a bit more into Miles’ thigh. Miles presses his palm up from her mouth to run over her ears mechanically, staring at the empty chair across from him. It feels weird, being in the replimat alone like this. Maybe he’ll go seek out Kira or Jadzia, one of his co-workers in engineering. He knows it won’t be the same easy rhythms of him and Julian, the playful bickering and easy jokes, but it still won’t be sitting in the replimat across from a half-finished cup of tea.

 Miles scrunches his face up, mouth curling into a tight frown as he looks down at Murphy. Julian’s problems aren’t getting to him! He just wishes Julian was a little more … consistent. It was hard not knowing which days his best friend would play darts with him and which days he’d hide out in his lab without so much as a word. That’s all. “Us? What do we have to do with any of this?”

 “They are our best friend, Miles.” Murphy tells him as she half climbs over his lap, lean body stretched out and looking faintly ridiculous. Murphy presses his head against the muted colors on his wrist, half covering them so Miles’ gaze is drawn to the swirling colors. He’s never noticed how many shades of blue and green were in there before.

* * *

  “My dear doctor, I’m curious about something.” Garak murmurs softly over his kanar, gaze a burnished steel in contrast to the velvet of his voice. Julian watches his lips slowly uncurl into a hint of a smile, thick and dexterous fingers wrapping around the stem of his glass in a way that draws Julian’s attention to them almost involuntarily. Kukalaka sits next to them but just out of reach of Garak’s touch, spreading her wings out so everyone can see the comforting brown feathers along with the more brilliant shades of emerald and sapphire, as though to remind him that underneath all the masks, there’s something else, someone else. But Julian doesn’t want to think about that right now.

 “Aren’t you always, Garak?” Julian asks with a shake of his head, carefully stabbing his salad with the edge of his fork and then holding it up in the air toward Garak, tilting his head a bit to the right. He smirks before he can stop himself, gaze growing playful as he twirls his fork in the air, unconscious of how close it is to Eyal until she suddenly bites off the edge of his spinach leaf. Julian blinks owlishly, eyes widening as the bird flaps her wings so they brush against his wrist, the first contact they’ve had since Julian took the wire out a year ago. Garak laughs, warm and rich, and Julian couldn’t help joining in after a moment.  He grins a bit as Eyal jumps backwards across the sky blue table.

 Garak returns his grin with his own playful smile, gaze at once dangerous and teasing. He and Eyal lean in unison, one hand coming to rest under Garak’s chin and the other coming to run down along Eyal’s left wing. Kukalaka sits in front of Garak’s hand, so close that if she moved more than a quarter of an inch, she’d be brushing his fingertips. Garak looks down at her and his smile grows a little softer, but there’s an almost displeasure in his gaze as he narrows it onto her wings like they’ve done something to offend him. “How old were you when Kukalaka settled?”

 “15.” Julian answers with a slight uptick in his voice, and he knows the word came out too quickly to be strictly natural. He gives Garak an approximation of Garak’s own smile when he isn’t going to share more than he just did, too wide and with eyes just a bit distant. Apparently it’s not as effective on him as it is on Garak, Eyal letting out a cackling sound that Julian knows from experience is the same as a laugh for a bird. Garak gives him the same smile in return, gaze twinkling with fond exasperation. “Why do you ask?”

 “Well, you know Cardassians are settled from birth, so the idea of a shifting daemon holds some novelty to us.” Garak‘s voice is smooth as he slides a hand over to Julian’s side of the table and steals one of his Bajoran spinach leaves from his plate, expression a mirror image of Eyal’s a few minutes ago. It’s almost unnerving, how alike Garak and his daemon are, the way their expressions mirror each other, the same curious gazes and sharp words, lilting voices and carefully controlled movements, hints of sentiment and warmth slipping through in spite of themselves. At least for him and Kukalaka, anyway.

 Julian pushes the thought aside and focuses on Garak’s words instead. A novelty, that’s what he is for the other man, something Garak can’t quite figure out. He can’t let himself imagine other possibilities. Those are just for Kukalaka.

 “If you want to see that, you should go look at Jadzia’s daemon, not Kukalaka here.” Julian says as though to remind himself, regaining a hint of the playfulness that usually colors all of his interactions with Garak. Garak lets out a small scoff, gaze bordering on hurt as he pulls back from the table, hands lying on the edge instead of inches away from Julian’s own. This was better. Really.

 “Maybe, but I’m admittedly much more fond of Kukalaka here than Jaezan.” Garak assures him in a voice like honey, piercing gaze turning away from his face and over to where Kukalaka stands between his hands. Julian scrunches his face together, lips pursed as he meets Kukalaka’s eyes. He’s not sure when she got so close to Garak, but she shouldn’t be. It’s not safe. Not yet. Julian can’t pull her closer to him, he can only press his eyebrows together as Kukalaka spreads her wings out wide, so the brown feathers underneath brush against Garak’s palms. Garak glances down at her with a small grin, gaze holding something that makes Julian’s chest hurt as Garak delicately taps her beak with his pinkie. “She’s a fascinating daemon.”

 “I - thank you, Garak.” Julian finally mumbles as he closes his eyes, taking a few measured breaths to try and get himself back under control. When he opens his eyes, Kukalaka is sitting back by his salad, nowhere close to Garak’s hands. Garak looks over at him in bemusement, raising his ridges as Julian splutters out something about _The Scarlet Letter._

  The rest of lunch slides back into their old familiar patterns, both of them throwing out jabs at each other and debating every word of the novel until Julian’s exhausted and stimulated all at the same time. A deep sense of loneliness settles in Julian’s chest when Garak and Eyal leave, Kukalaka hopping after them a few paces across the table.

 Julian barely notes the walk to his room, body moving on autopilot until he arrives at his door. Kukalaka seems just as overcome with nerves, flying back and forth around him at least half a dozen times in the space of each minute. Julian’s not sure he can blame her, not with the memory of how Garak touched her heavy in his mind. Julian doesn’t speak until he’s made sure the computer locked the door twice.

 “Do you think he suspects? Did we give him a reason to suspect?” Julian babbles as he walks across the small space of his sitting room, Kukalaka currently a pademelon and close to his heels. Julian knows that befriending Garak and learning all the different permutations of his face, what each of his different smiles means, which ones are for him and which ones are for Kukalaka, which ones are lies was a dangerous choice.

  Garak is still an enigma to him, opaque in all the places Julian desperately wants him to be transparent, but at the same time he feels like he knows Garak deep in his bones.

  And lately it’s been even more than that, twinges of affection and paranoia at the edge of his consciousness but also clearly not truly _his_ , the false bond spreading through Kukalaka to bleed into him as well. Cheating and lying again, just this time with emotions instead of education and sports.

 “Julian, I touched Eyal, of course he must know _something_ is different.” Kukalaka points out to him as she bumps into his back legs, forcing him to come to a stop against the wall closest to his bedroom, gazing at nothing but eggshell walls. He hates that color. He wonders if he could get permission to repaint the walls. He can feel Kukalaka pushing against the back of his legs, as though figuratively and literally trying to knock what she erroneously thinks of as sense into him.

 “Not necessarily, given that it’s a false bond.” Julian reminds her in a tight voice, drumming his right hand against the top of his right thigh to try and get out some of the nervous energy running down his spine. It’s entirely possible the emotional and sensory input might only be affecting him due to his weak connection to Kukalaka, Garak and Eyal blissfully unaware that there’s any bond at all. Garak’s given him no indication that he can sense his nervousness every time the idea of daemons comes up or that he’s annoyed by his excitement every time he makes a new discovery or finishes a particularly good holoprogram.

 Kukalaka groans in a low voice, flopping backwards onto his navy rug, and spreading out into a sifaka, thick white fur a stark contrast to the imperfect shades of the room. After a moment Julian lets out a sound that’s suspiciously similar, sliding down to the ground in what feels like slow motion, limbs spread out across the floor like he’s a broken marionette. Kukalaka shoots him a look out of the corner of her eye, voice painfully snippy. “Is that even a thing?”

 “Yes, it is and you know it is.” Julian says in a clipped voice, gaze darting to the padds carefully lined up onto the small desk by his replicator. He sighs and slides one arm under his head, carefully inching his body closer to the desk. Kukalaka glares tightly at his back, inching towards him at the same time. For a moment Julian wonders if she’s going to grab his arm and try to hold him to the carpet. But instead she just sits up, slowly shrinking down to a frog this time. She did love hopping. “I’ve been careless. I need to focus more on the actual science and not just the emotions behind it.”

 “Julian.” Kukalaka whispers reproachfully and also with more than a hint of exasperation, as though she thinks he’s being a fool. Julian turns his head away from her and swallows tightly as he pushes himself up with his arms, gaze narrowing in on his padds. He takes a few hurried steps towards the desk, not looking back to see if Kukalaka is following him or not. Julian sits down and opens one of the padds, this one detailing enforced bond separations. It was rare for the daemon and their person to both survive those, one of them dying in 98.84 of cases. They suffered severe side effects in all the others, various signs of physical weakness and memory loss.  

 “We don’t have to talk about it,” Julian promises as he finally glances back at Kukalaka, now a very miffed rabbit. Kukalaka strides towards the desk and ignores the way it makes Julian’s stomach churn, his hands shaking as he goes over his research for what he feels the millionth time. Somewhere in here he’ll find a sign, some kind way to free Kukalaka from this bond without hurting her.

 Julian knows he’s close to finding a solution for him and Kukalaka, there’s just a few pieces of the equation he can’t quite seem to fit together.

* * *

   Garak walks into the Klingon restaurant with a low sigh, pressing his hand under his chin as he takes in the raucous sounds of fighting both in words and with fist, opera blaring across the room so loudly he has to swallow a wince. He’s never quite learned to appreciate Klingon opera to the level of Commander Worf. He spots the doctor and Kukalaka first, the hummingbird flying around his head at a dizzying pace while the doctor lets out a laugh Garak can tell is nervous from here. Then Julian leans back and Garak can see Chief O’Brien sitting across from him with a tight smile. Suddenly the nerves make sense.

 “Doctor, when you invited me to dinner, I didn’t think we’d have company.” Garak says in amusement, gaze flicking between Julian, who is smiling in a way that looks borderline painful and Miles, who glares over at him like he expects Garak to pull a weapon out at any moment. Not an unfair concern, Garak has to admit, but the Chief has no reason to worry. The only weapons he’ll be employing tonight are barbed words, and most of those are reserved for the doctor. He has no interest in either pushing the Chief away or seducing him, but if his flirtations end up annoying the other man or push him to be more protective of Julian, Garak can’t say he’d mind.

 “Neither did I.” Miles snaps in a low voice, expression pinched as he shoots a glare over at Julian, one the other man pointedly ignores as he holds up his drink. Garak raises one eye ridge as he takes a few more steps forward, Eyal narrowing her gaze at the Chief’s daemon, a sleek mottled grey dog with warm brown eyes and a threatening growl. Eyal huffs, spreading her wings out over the chair by Julian pointedly while the dog leaps up, pressing her paws on the edge of the table.

 So this isn’t some misguided attempt by the Chief to find out his intentions toward Julian or try and scare him away, but Julian’s idea. That made things far more intriguing, Garak has to admit with a hint of a smile as he slides a hand out toward Miles.

 “I just thought it was time the two of you got to know each other.” Julian’s voice is just a touch too bright, spreading his arms out towards both of them companionably. Miles sits there with a pinched face, gaze flicking between them as his pout deepens the longer Garak continues to stand there with his hand held out. Garak doesn’t think the look is quite as attractive on the Chief as the doctor.

 Julian shoots a hurt look Miles’ way, curling his lips a bit and letting out one of the loud huffs he made when he felt the world had let him down, wounded and righteous and ridiculous. Garak can feel the defensiveness and fondness Julian feels for the Chief mixing together, bright and warm. Miles gives him a flat look but eventually sticks his arm out without so much as glancing at Garak, shaking his hand like he thinks Garak might break his.

 “Why?” Miles asks as he pulls his hand back and immediately starts running it across his daemon, as though he’s a child trying to rid himself of germs. Garak has to admit that he’s curious about that as well. Besides Julian’s well-being, there’s little for him and the Chief to discuss and Julian is here and as fine as anyone with so many issues with their own soul can be. Kukalaka, meanwhile, is making annoyed trilling sounds as she flies from Julian’s right wrist to his left, clawing at the cuffs as though she’s trying to cut through them with her weak talons.

 “The two of you have a lot in common.” Julian muses with a warm smile, voice dropping conspiratorially as though to draw them both in, gaze dropping to his plate with a hint of a smirk. Eyal makes a low noise in the back of her throat, a high squeak that draws Julian’s and Miles’ eyes both to her, the first fond and the second heavy with suspicion. Garak glances over at Eyal, eyebrow ridges perfectly level even as he takes in the sound of her laughter, coded with a meaning that Garak knows is just for him. Eyal tilts her head slightly down and Garak drops his gaze without moving his head, seeing nothing but empty plates and Kukalaka, who is still leaping back and forth between the cuffs on Julian’s wrists.

 Cuffs. Plural. Garak keeps his face as still as possible, but a gleam comes into his eyes as he puts the pieces together. One of those wrists hides a Cardassian raven, the other Garak imagines holds a sleek grey dog. Garak flicks his gaze down to the cuffs and then back to Julian’s face, pressing one hand to his jaw as he considers the possibilities for why Julian hasn’t told either of them he’s their soulmate and this surprise dinner. It’s possible, Garak supposes, that Miles does know and the cuffs are merely to keep him unaware, but he doubts it given that the Chief has yet to confront him about it.

 Curious. There’s no reason why Julian would need to keep the secret from Miles; the man doesn’t pose any threat like Garak does, honest and steady to a fault. Which suggests that Julian keeps the secret of his soulmates and unsettled daemon for reasons outside of him, possibly for reasons that have nothing to do with Garak at all.

 Garak slides into the third chair, shifting it just a bit too close to Julian for anyone’s but his own comfort, so their thighs are practically pressed together beneath the table. Julian swallows a bit, ankle brushing against his own under the table for a moment. Garak raises a ridge as he glances between Julian and Miles, smile wide as he reaches a hand out toward Kukalaka, letting his palm brush over the sable cuff on Julian’s right wrist. Julian’s gaze darts away from him and over to Miles, grin just a bit more strained than it was a few seconds ago. Then Julian suspects Garak knows, but isn’t sure. Wonderful. Garak presses in, his right hand coming up to lie on his shoulder, squeezing just a bit too firmly to be purely friendly. “What do we have in common besides you, Doctor?”

 “You both love historical texts.” Julian points out with forced cheer, rolling his shoulders as though to dislodge Garak’s hand. Garak just grins and presses his hand a bit tighter against the seam of Julian’s hideous uniform, letting out a small sigh at the rough feel of polyester under his hand. He really must talk to Julian about changing out of his uniform more often when off-duty. He can feel the Chief glaring daggers at his hand, but chooses to ignore him as Julian keeps talking in an increasingly frantic fashion. “In fact, Garak, I lent Miles _The Psychology Of Glim Makat_ you wanted me to read. I thought the two of you would have a better time discussing it.”

 “Did you? So, Chief O’Brien, how did you find the piece? I’m fascinated to hear a soldier’s opinion rather than that of a sentimental doctor.” Garak muses airily, swiping one hand across the table in a gesture he knows is as dismissive to terrans as it is to Cardassians. In truth, if Miles could overcome his prejudice against Cardassia, Garak suspects that his opinion would be fascinating. As simple as he seems on the surface, Garak suspects there are hidden depths to the Chief.

  But right now his focus is on Julian’s secrets. Miles’ daemon grunts at him, her gaze narrowing as she moves further on to the table, one paw now resting on the other side of Kukalaka protectively. So the daemon at least suspected and yet the Chief didn’t yet. Very intriguing.

 “I didn’t actually read it yet.” Miles admits with a low growl, gaze narrowing over at Julian in annoyance even as his skin grows even paler than usual. Julian lets out a small huff, crossing his arms as he meets the Chief’s gaze with a wounded look. Garak suspects this might not be the first book that Julian’s lent Miles that went unread. “I’m going to get to it, I’ve been busy.”

 “Well, the two of you should have lunch together to discuss it. Alone.” Julian throws out a pained smile, suddenly looking away from both of them and out to the center of the room, gaze locking on a gleaming amethyst chandelier in the middle as though it holds some kind of secret. Garak gently squeezes the doctor’s shoulder until he turns his gaze back to the table, expression sharp and put-out, opening his mouth with a look Garak can’t help but find charming.

 Miles, meanwhile, is looking around the room for a waiter, even while his daemon’s eyes are stuck to where Kukalaka is flapping her wings at a rapid pace. Garak wonders what colors his mark would be now if he were to roll up his sleeve.

 “Julian, what’s this about?” Miles asks as he scrunches up his face at the same time as the daemon lets out low growl in the back of her throat, ears sticking up just a bit more than they were a few seconds ago. Julian’s eyes widen so much that Garak can see all the individual threads of green and brown that merge together to create that intoxicating shade of hazel.

 “Nothing, I just think the two of you should get to know each other better.” Julian insists with a rising voice, hands flailing through the air as though if he moves them enough he’ll end up being right. Julian bites his lip and looks up at the ceiling, Kukalaka looking down at the table and pressing her wings firmly across her body, like she’s trying to hide her face from Eyal and Murphy. Garak’s not sure he blames her with the way Julian’s carrying on, at once utterly adorable and so obviously lying that it’s painful, one hand running through his hair just a bit too fast. Then, as though just now realizing how ridiculous he looks, Julian’s entire expression shifts from desperation to self-righteousness, though it rings a bit hollow to Garak. “We’re all inhabiting this base together, there’s no reason we shouldn’t try to form a deeper understanding of one each other as well.”

 “I’m good, thanks.” Miles says tightly as he runs a hand up Murphy’s back, coming to rest by her ears. Miles shakes his head a little, shooting Julian a look that’s half-apologetic and half-irritated, palms pressed against the edge of the table. His gaze darts to Garak for a moment, lips spreading into a thin smile, as though they’re in the same sinking boat. He supposes that’s true, Garak is just enjoying it more. “No offense, Garak.”

 “None taken.” Garak assures the other man with a cheshire smile, tilting his head to the left a hair as Eyal flies off of Garak’s shoulder to land next to Kukalaka, spreading out her wings over the other daemon, but not quite touching as she twists her neck to look at the hummingbird sympathetically. Murphy glances over at them and makes a whining sound in the back of her throat, head sliding onto the table toward Kukalaka as much the angle will let her. Kukalaka makes several mournful trilling sounds, turning between them with wild eyes. So Julian’s soul didn’t want the protective walls Julian clung too so vigorously. Fascinating. “Doctor, What does Kukalaka think of all of this?”

 “What?” Julian splutters as he twists to face Garak more than before, eyes just a bit wider than they were a few seconds ago. Julian looks trapped, lips pressed into a thin line as he glances down at Kukalaka hesitantly. “She … she wants you to be friends as well. She enjoys both Murphy’s and Eyal’s company.”

 “Well then, all we need to do is stay close to you, my dear.” Garak tells him with a bright smile, clasping his shoulder a bit lower up on his frame, hands spreading out to where his collarbone would be. That earns him a sharp look from Miles, who suddenly slides his chair closer on the other side, effectively boxing Julian in the same way Eyal and Murphy have come to protectively wrap around Kukalaka. “And that shouldn’t be difficult.”

 Julian mutters something under his breath and then changes the subject to Molly O’Brien’s latest artwork, Garak politely listening as Miles describes a creature called a rainbow sphinx. He never takes his eyes off of Julian though, the way his shoulders are just a bit too stiff and voice wavering every so often when Miles mentions daemons. Garak makes sure to ask about Keiko’s and Molly’s at least half a dozen times.

 Garak doesn’t leave the dinner feeling any closer to the chief, but he thinks he might be just a bit closer to solving Julian Bashir.

* * *

 Miles imagines that, in a different world, he’s the one feeling bad about the fact that he destroyed Julian’s research, even if it’s what he had to do to save the stubborn man’s life. He admires Julian’s dedication to helping people, to medicine, but he doesn’t trust the way Julian includes all of their enemies on his list of people.

  But any of that ceases to matter when Murphy, terrified Julian’s going to end up shot, dives toward him and lands on Kukalaka instead. Miles opens his mouth to apologize when he suddenly smells palm trees and the ocean air, a feeling of refreshing mist falling over him. A platonic bond.

 Miles had looked up with wide, betrayed eyes that matched Julian’s dinner plate sized ones, the guilt on the edge of his conscious suddenly and searingly not his own. Julian was his soulmate. He didn’t have time to focus on the revelation then, pushing Julian and Kukalaka back towards the runabout before they can use his shock to get back to their work.

 He has plenty of time to think about it now that they’re back in space though.

 “Julian, we’re going to talk about this,” Miles finally says after they spend a good fifteen minutes sitting there glowering, Murphy lying between them so she’s touching both of them with a paw like she does when Keiko and Miles take roundabouts together. Kukalaka flies back and forth between them, her wings tickling Miles’ cheek and then darting back to lightly smack Julian on the nose. It’d be sweet, if he weren’t so mad at Julian right now. Well, mad and scared as all get out and more worried than anything else. Not only did he just almost lose his best friend to the Jem Hadar, he almost lost one of his _soulmates_ too. Miles shudders a bit, one hand coming to scratch behind Murphy’s ears.

 “There’s nothing to talk about, Miles.” Julian mutters in a low voice, a hint of a tremor that draws Miles’ eyes to him almost involuntarily. He can feel Julian’s guilt and terror on the edges of his consciousness now just like he can feel Keiko’s excitement and curiosity. At least one of them is having a good day. Julian finally glances over at him, voice shaky as he gives Miles a brittle smile that looks like it might shatter at any moment. “Whatever you felt was just the effect of the adrenaline -”

 “I know what a bond formation feels like Julian, and I don’t think the bit of terror at the edge of my mind is from me.” Miles borderline growls as he jabs a finger out at the other man, scrunching his face up to try and hide the hurt slowly building in his chest. Julian’s eyes widen, shaking his head a bit as though Miles is the one who can’t be believed here. Miles shoots him a tight glare and Julian has the grace to look down sheepishly, fingers drumming against his thigh in a careful rhythm Miles can’t quite follow.

 “You should talk to him, he’s not asleep.” Kukalaka murmurs from where she’s resting on the edge of the control panel, her feathers spreading out and _melting_ into warm russet fur, hummingbird replaced with an American marten. Miles glances down at the mark on his right wrist, colors a little brighter than they were before, though still not as bright as the first couple of years after it came in. it still doesn’t look like Julian or Kukalaka.

 Julian’s eyes widen as he watches Kukalaka run down the side of the control panel, short legs suddenly growing until she’s almost the same height as Murphy, russet fur brightening to a red as the shape of her face changes again. A red fox this time, lying down half on the ground and half on top of Murphy, looking up at Julian with a righteous triumph he’s seen on Julian’s face more than once. Usually when he wins at darts or when he’s arguing with Garak. Now Julian doesn’t have it at all, eyes wide and mouth hanging open slightly, one hand slamming down on the edge of the control panel. “Kukalaka!”

 “He already knows, Julian, there’s no point in hiding,” Kukalaka reminds Julian as she flips her tail back and forth, pressing her head against the edge of Miles’ leg. Julian glances over at her with a pinched expression, lips curling in distaste. Julian mouths the word ‘rules’ and Miles swears Kukalaka manages to roll her eyes at him as she presses closer to him and Murphy.

  Miles grins down at her brightly, because he has the feeling they’re going to become very good friends once they solve whatever’s going on with Julian.

  Or maybe they won’t, because well. There has to be a reason Julian’s spent the last four years lying to him about this, never dropping so much as a hint that there was a greyhound hiding under one of those cuffs.

 “She’s right, you know, you don’t need to hide.” Miles tells him quietly, gazing over at Julian and steeling himself from what was coming next. He can feel his hands practically shaking as he meets his friend’s gaze, Julian wincing and closing his eyes. The guilt at the edge of his consciousness is almost overwhelming at this point, though the threads of terror are still there. Miles swallows the last of his own fears, words spilling out before he lets the moment get away from him. “Julian, why were you hiding in the first place? Did it really seem that bad, being my soulmate?”

 “Of course not! I’d be lucky.” Julian cries as his eyes snap open, as though offended by the very idea that someone wouldn’t want Miles as a soulmate. Julian lets out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes again as he runs his right hand down his cheek and lets it rest there, fingernails pressing so tightly against his jaw that Miles is a bit worried he’ll break the skin. Julian finally looks over at him, gaze pained as he takes a few deep breaths. Miles wonders if he’s trying to hold back the tears building at the corner of his eyes. “But I’m not your soulmate. Jules was.”

 “Jules?” Miles asks in a measured voice, because the guilt on the edge of his mind has shifted into something too primal for him to name, raw and ugly and nothing Julian should ever be feeling. Julian nods a bit, the tears at the corner of his eyes starting to win the war, one tear sliding down his face crookedly. Julian quickly sweeps at his cheek, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. Miles reaches a hand out towards him, gripping his shoulder until Julian’s breathing evens out. The feeling’s still there though.

 “When I was a child, I had fairly severe learning disabilities and social issues and impatient parents,” Julian answers him in a shaking voice, hands clenching the sides of his chair so tightly that his knuckles start to change shades. Kukalaka presses up against his legs, shrinking down as her fur turns a light brown, nuzzling Julian’s legs. He still doesn’t pick her up.

 Miles swallows a little at that, eyebrows pressing together as he takes in his words. Julian never talks about his parents, or really his life at all before Starfleet. Miles never really wondered about that before, but the way his voice is shaking and the disgust building on the corner of his consciousness makes Miles fairly sure he should have.

  That, and he might have to make a trip to earth sometime soon to give his dad and mom a talking to. Julian looks over at him and makes a small noise deep in the back of his throat, Kukalaka pushing up against Julian as much as she can as a rabbit. “Well, they sound like assholes but -”

 “So then they took Jules to Adigeon Prime.” Julian cuts him off before Miles can say anything else, voice a little steadier but gaze suddenly muted and far away. The colors on his right wrist are almost completely gone, almost swirling into the color of concrete. Miles gives a small nod even as he can feel his stomach start to twist painfully, not sure if its his disgust with Julian’s parents or Julian’s. Miles doesn’t think it matters. He knows the stories about Adigeon Prime, people who disappear there for months at a time and come back with new names and faces, but at least the choice was their own. From the sounds of it, Julian was just a child. “And they came back with Julian Bashir, freak. Monster. Augment. Whichever word you prefer.”

 “They had you genetically enhanced.” Miles says softly as he reaches his arm out toward Julian, only for him to jerk away out of Miles’ reach. Murphy suddenly leaps to her feet, swiftly moving to rest her head on Julian’s lap, body wrapped protectively around Kukalaka’s smaller one. Miles closes his eyes and wraps his hands around the arms of the chair, glancing over at Julian and not quite able to stop his curiosity from making itself known. “What did they change?”

 “Everything. My IQ jumped five points a day for weeks. Then my reflexes, my vision, my height and weight, my senses - there was nothing left of Jules Bashir as he was before.” Julian whispers as he lets himself slump against his chair, close enough that if Miles wanted to, he could pull him into the hug Julian seems to desperately need. He doesn’t yet, swallowing down the urge and letting Murphy do the moving for them, one paw coming to rest protectively against Julian’s knees. Julian looks down at her with an anguished smile, looking like he’s seconds away from shutting down completely. “So you see, my parents killed your soulmate and replaced him with me.”

 “Bullshit!” Miles cries before he can stop himself, slamming his hand down so hard against the control panel that he knows his palm will be mottled and purple in a few hours. Miles swallows all the other things he wants to shout, the venomous words and furious diatribes. None of them are for Julian, not a single word. Miles slides out of his chair and bridges the gap between his own seat and Julian’s with a speed he didn’t even know he was capable of, one hand coming to lie on the arm rest next to where Julian still grips it like it’s a life preserver.

 Julian blinks owlishly as he finally looks up at him, trembling slightly and opening and closing his mouth a few times, like he’s not sure what to say. But then, Miles guesses Julian might not for once. Kukalaka shifts around Murphy so she’s pressing up against his leg as well as Julian’s, gaze confused and wounded, a look Miles realizes he’s seen there far too many times. it takes all of Miles’ willpower not to reach down and hug her. But Julian hasn’t given him permission for that yet. Julian’s hand suddenly brushes against his own, voice the same as Kukalaka’s face. “What?”

 “You heard me! I don’t know who put it in your head that you’re a monster, but you’re about as far from one as you can get.” Miles tells him as his voice slowly rises in fury he can’t quite control, hands tightening around the arm rest as he tries to keep some measure of control. He doesn’t want Julian to think he’s mad at him and not his parents and the Federation and everything else that betrayed him and Kukalaka. Then Miles swallows a little, closing his eyes as the fight goes out of him, replaced with a worry that seeps all the way down to his veins. “And you … you think you … _died_?”

 “I think whoever Jules Bashir was did.” Julian corrects Miles primly as he closes his eyes, taking a few shuddering breaths as though trying to regain his composure. He hasn’t quite managed it when he finally looks back up at Miles, gaze as weak as his voice is steady. “And that’s who Kukalaka belonged to.”

 “Julian, you’re an idiot.” Miles says roughly, finally reaching his hands up to firmly grab his friend by both shoulders. Julian’s eyes widen at his words, mouth falling open, though Miles isn’t sure if it’s in affront or shock. He doesn’t think Julian knows either. “Genetic enhancements can’t create a sense of humor or ambition or compassion, or that stubborn need of yours to help _everyone_ that makes you pull stunts like you did today!”

 Julian stares at him, looking a bit miffed for a moment, as though just remembering that, in a different world, he’d be the one righteously angry instead of Miles. Julian shakes his head rapidly, crossing his arms against his chest and looking anywhere but at Miles or Kukalaka. He does spare a glance down at Murphy, who has half climbed into his lap at this point. “You can’t know -”

 “Like hell I can’t, you’re my soulmate and you’re my best friend, I know you.” Miles insists in a heated voice, the grip on Julian’s shoulders growing a bit tighter as he just holds back from shaking the other man. He’s just so furious, at the parents who would trade in their son instead of caring for him, at the doctors who went through with it, at the federation for telling Julian he was wrong, and hell, even a little bit at Julian for believing it so fully that he hurt himself like this. When Miles looks down at Julian, face crumpled and hands shaking, the anger crushes back down to fear and worry. “You have a soul. They didn’t kill that little boy, he just grew up to be you.”

 Julian shakes his head, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes again as he takes a few gasping breaths, as though on the verge of a panic attack. Miles lets go then and staggers back to his own seat, slumping into the cushions with a sense of exhaustion he hasn’t felt in some time. Murphy doesn’t move from Julian’s lap, but Kukalaka hops over to rest at his feet until they get close to the ship, where that brown fur melts into wings again.

 “I wish he believed one of us.” Kukalaka sighs as she flies by his shoulder, voice so small that Miles isn’t sure that Julian can hear them. Miles glances at her, smile weak as he lets her brush against his curls like she’s trying to ruffle them. It’s exactly what Miles would like to do with Julian right now, Julian who’s pressing far too many buttons at the moment, black cuffs visible - cuffs.

 Two. Julian has another soulmate. And there’s only one person who seems as interested in Julian as him. Damn.

 “It’s Garak, isn’t it?” Miles asks tiredly even though he doesn’t need more than the flinch of Julian’s shoulders to confirm it. Of course Julian would be stuck with Garak, which means so is Miles and he has to imagine that’s not going to make for many good times in the future.

 But Garak is crafty as they come and he knows Julian better than Miles would like, so for right now he and Eyal might just be the only thing that can ensure there will be any good times at all.

* * *

  Garak both is and isn’t surprised when he sees Chief O’Brien marching towards his shop with a look of determination on his face, shoulders and back straight as a pin. Sooner or later he knew they’d have to face the Julian question, Garak just thought it would be later. His skills must really be getting rusty if Chief O’Brien figures it out mere _days_ after he did.

 “Chief O’Brien to what do I owe the pleasure? Shopping for Keiko?” Garak asks in a warm voice when the other man walks through the door, trying to keep his customer service smile in place, even though he’s sure he knows why the Chief is actually storming into his shop, angry footsteps matched by the hurried pattern of his daemon. Garak picks up a piece of blood orange velvet that would look fantastic on Keiko O’Brien and match her daemon as well. Miles looks at it for a moment, eyebrows scrunched together as though trying to decide if Garak is serious or not. Garak imagines that, once they get to know each other better for Julian’s sake, the Chief will realize he is always just as serious as he is not.

 “It’s about Julian,” Miles tells him hoarsely and Garak drops all pretense, gaze narrowing as he cocks his head to the left, towards one of the dressing rooms. Odo or Quark could be listening in anywhere else, and Garak isn’t quite ready to give all his or Julian’s cards away yet. Once they’re enclosed in the small space, protected from Ferengi ears and by Odo’s sense of propriety, Garak tilts his head to the right to indicate that it’s safe for Miles to keep talking. The Chief doesn’t miss a beat, Murphy stepping between them and giving Garak a considering look. “You’re his other soulmate, right?”

 Garak’s smile widens a bit at that, gaze taking on a different look as he gestures for the Chief to take a seat on the gleaming white bench in the back of the dressing room. Miles does, but his daemon stands in front of him, ears raised up and staring up at Eyal with a narrowed gaze. “Was it that terribly awkward lunch that gave him away?”

 “No, Murphy tackled Kukalaka.” Miles says with a bit of a huff, while Murphy looks down at the ground and digs one of her paws into the tiles. He’ll have to check later to see if she scratched it. For now, he just raises an eyebrow ridge, lips curling as he makes a sweeping gesture for Miles to continue his explanation, because even by Cardassian standards, that was an extreme way to form a bond. “Look, it’s a long story, but the point is I - _Julian_ needs your help.”

 Garak’s smile widens to the point where it’s almost painful, not looking the least bit surprised as he paces the small space of the dressing room. Being in such close quarters with his soulmates without bonding, or in his and the good doctor’s case, two years with a bond they both politely ignored, was a challenge. Honestly, Garak’s more than a little impressed the bond stress didn’t cause Julian to crack earlier. “Does he now?”

 “Ever since I found out, when he hasn’t been on duty, he’s been spending all his time in a holosuite program.” Miles mutters in a low voice, reaching a hand out to run down the side of Murphy’s back, the dog still stiff as she stares over at Garak, though her gaze is more worried than suspicious now. Eyal makes a trilling noise that’s almost comforting, flying over her and Miles’ head before landing on his other shoulder and nipping at his ear anxiously. “His parents took him to Adigeon Prime as a kid. Do you know what that means?”

 “You have to admit that’s not entirely unusual for Julian.” Garak tells him with a wry grin, and he’s rewarded with a half smile from the Chief. Julian did love those holoprograms, usually spending all his free time in them the first few days after getting one. But this has been nearly two weeks and Garak has to admit that not seeing the doctor at _all_ hasn't been good for his side of the bond either. Then taking in the second half of Miles’ words, he gives a silent nod, letting his expression become serious for a moment. He knows all about Adigeon Prime and the doctor being one of their prized works isn’t a surprise, exactly, Julian always doing everything just a bit too fast. It’s barely worth mentioning, except that Miles did. “But I was worried when he skipped both of our lunches. It didn’t even seem like he’d _read_ the _Mask of Kamar.”_

 “Are you coming with me or not?” Miles asks roughly as he suddenly stands up, reaching one hand out and pointing to Garak’s across the promenade. The Chief doesn’t look back as he and Murphy storm out of the dressing room and across Garak’s shop, so Garak and Eyal have no choice but to follow them down the promenade.

 Quark raises an eyebrow when they walk in together sans Julian, and opens his mouth to shout when Miles heads straight towards the holosuites. Garak gives him a small, borderline predatory smile before handing him some latinum, because he doesn’t have time to threaten Quark right now. Not with how fast Eyal flies after Miles and Murphy, pain already shooting down his fingertips.  

 Garak reaches the Chief’s side after a moment, the man’s hands carefully undoing the lock with deft fingers. Garak watches him work with a raised ridge, arms crossed loosely against his chest as he smiles down at the Chief. “Breaking into a holosuite? Isn’t that considered illegal in the Federation?”

 “Like you care.” Miles groans as he finishes undoing the lock, pushing the door open with a strong heave. Garak follows him through, expecting to be entering an ancient Terran war zone or some silly spy novel. He doesn’t expect to find himself in an empty bar, save where Julian and Kukalaka sit in the middle of the room with their backs to both of them.

 “Neither of you are supposed to be in here.” Julian snaps without turning around, though Kukalaka does, currently a python wrapped tightly around Julian’s right arm, her head resting on his shoulder. Garak supposes that’s one way to get contact from the dear doctor, since he seems so unwilling to give it himself.

 “We didn’t see any other way to enjoy your company, my dear.” Garak says soothingly as he walks over to the table, smiling softly as Eyal flies off of his shoulder to land on Julian’s wrist instead. Julian gives her the same kind of look he often gives Garak at lunches, somehow at once both adoring and irritated. His gaze drifts over to them and he stiffens a bit, sliding to his feet without dislodging either daemon. Garak has to admit he’s a bit impressed.

 “I don’t want to enjoy your company.” Julian answers him in a crisp voice as he shoots Garak a pointed look, lips curling into a deep pout as he stares at him. Eyal eventually takes the hint, flying off of Julian’s shoulder to land on Garak’s left one instead, though her wings are still spread out towards Kukalaka. Murphy has taken a few steps in front of Miles, so her head is just below where Kukalaka’s rests on Julian’s sleeve.

 “I do.” Kukalaka calls to both of them defiantly, and Garak positively beams at her. Now _there_ is the fire Garak has been missing from his soulmate the past few weeks, somehow stubborn and wanting at the same time. Julian and Kukalaka have always been a puzzle of contradictions, and Garak suspects that won’t change even when Kukalaka finally does.

 “And once I finish my research, you’ll be able to.” Julian tells her in a tight voice as he gives her a pained look, the guilt that’s been on the edge of Garak’s consciousness suddenly flaring to life. Going by Kukalaka’s shrill hiss, her body slowly unwrapping around Julian, Garak doesn’t think the doctor is feeling guilty about the right thing. Garak wouldn’t know. Guilt’s never been a luxury he could afford.

 “Research?” Garak asks instead, raising a ridge at the same time the Chief takes a step toward Julian. His face is scrunched up tightly, lips pressed together tightly. Apparently they both suspect the answer won’t be anything they like.

 “Into Bond disintegration between daemons and the soul.” Julian whispers as his gaze drops to the floor below him as though ashamed of his words. As he well should be, Eyal making pained sounds as she suddenly presses several bird kisses to his cheek, the most affection she’s ever given him where others could see. Murphy meanwhile has pressed up against the Chief, who’s scratching her ears fiercely while staring blankly at Julian. Garak can’t blame him at the moment.

“For God’s sake, Julian, is your self-pity worth that much to you?” Miles cries as his blank expression gives way to a mixture of horror, shock, and more than a little worry, taking a few staggering steps toward Julian. Garak wonders what it’s like to have your emotions show so clearly on your face, the same surging through him. He watches Julian stiffen, pressing his eyebrows together defensively as Kukalaka slides off his arm to curl up on the floor, slowly stretching out into a rather fearsome looking brown bear.

 “I think what the Chief means is that it would be a very cruel thing to do to Kukalaka.” Eyal calls from where she’s hopped down to perch on his right wrist, the first to regain her bearings. The Chief gives a firm nod as he glares at Julian, though there’s a warmth behind it too. Garak takes a deep breath and bridges the gap between him and Julian, so they’re standing side by side, so close he can feel the other man’s breath hot on his cheek.

 “My parents taking Jules to Adigeon Prime was a very cruel thing to do to Kukalaka.” Jules corrects her as he gives both Eyal and him a pointed look, gaze flicking briefly over to Miles as though daring him to argue about it. Miles doesn’t, but he grunts as he takes a step toward Julian on the other side, walling him in a bit.

 “Yes, it was.” Garak agrees with a tight smile as he shifts so he and Julian are face to face, gaze steady where Julian’s is wavering. For once Garak doesn’t think that’s a bad thing. He brushes a hand up to cup Julian’s jaw, smile small and painfully sincere when he doesn’t push Garak’s hand away. “That doesn’t mean this can’t be too or all the years you’ve forced yourselves into hiding haven’t been either.”

 “Garak, that’s ridiculous.” Julian snaps in a heated voice, still not pulling away from Garak’s grip on his jaw, even as his fingertips spread on his cheek, golden skin warm beneath his fingertips. Julian lets out a shuddering breath but still raises on eyebrow challengingly. And Garak’s never been one to resist.

 “You’re trying to kill that little boy on Adigeon Prime as much as your parents did, my dear.” Garak whispers into his ear, voice silky and deceptively quiet, a fact proved by the angry ‘Hey’ the Chief calls out from the background. He half expects Murphy to bite his leg at the same time Eyal starts sharply nipping at his ear, but the daemon merely lets out a low growl. Julian stares at him, gaze a swirling mess of righteous anger and guilt that questions it, and then something heated comes into his eyes. Garak expects to be punched.

 Instead he is kissed, Julian’s lips as soft as his touch is rough and desperate, slim hands digging into his shoulders, a few fingers brushing against his cool grey skin. Garak pulls away from him then, one hand still resting on his cheek as he whispers a careful ‘no’. Julian is his friend and soulmate and while he desperately wants him, he doesn’t want him like this, angry and terrified of himself. Julian pulls back then, gaze burning as he marches across the holosuite to a door at the back, Kukalaka barreling into the other room in front of him. The door falls shut but is not locked, and all he and Miles can do is wait on the other side of it and listen.

* * *

   “I’m guessing you’re mad at me too then,” Julian says quietly as he slides down the side of Vic’s couch until he’s on the floor, legs spread out in front of him and feeling a bit like jelly. The stiffness he was carrying for Miles and Garak is all but gone, upper lip wavering and gaze so tired he can barely keep his eyes open. Kukalaka comes and sits down next to him, looking fairly ridiculous as even sitting she’s taller than the couch in this form. “You’re only this large when you’re angry.”

 “I’m only this large when you’re afraid.” Kukalaka corrects him, voice gruffer than usual. He can’t tell if it’s because she’s holding back tears or simply because at the moment she’s a bear. He doesn’t like this anymore than when she was … well, he’s not quite sure what she was before, but he knows he didn’t like it.

 “Kukalaka …” Julian trails off, not even sure what he wants to say. He can hardly ask her to shift into something smaller; she’s Jules’ daemon, not his. He doesn’t have the right. Kukalaka lets out a low growl as she starts to shrink, fur lightening to a golden yellow as a her ears and tail turn floppy. Julian meets her gaze carefully, mouthing ‘thank you’ as Kukalaka climbs into his lap, still too big to fit but small enough that about half of her does. She’s never been a dog before.

 “You asked me once, what you thought Jules Bashir would want to settle as.” Kukalaka murmurs as she gazes up at him, gaze still as Julian holds a breath. Is this it? Is Jules a golden retriever, loyal and sweet and far better at social etiquette than Julian’s ever managed? Kukalaka shakes her head in his lap, flashing a bright red as her fur is replaced with feathers, barely taking up any space where she digs her talons into his thigh. Julian swallows a bit, guilt fighting with a relief so strong that it shocks him, eyes widening a bit as he stares down at Kukalaka.

 “Yes and you said that you didn’t understand the question.” Julian answers her testily, trying to regain some sense of grounding here. Julian digs his fingers into the thick white rug on the floor, closing his eyes and trying to focus on the sensory experience of the individual fibers instead of the gleam of Kukalaka’s gaze.

 “You never talked to me about it again, no matter how many times I tried to bring it up.” Kukalaka mutters with a weak sigh as she slides out into a small fox like creature, ears just a hair too big and tail too short. Julian does look down this time, frowning tightly as her words make his stomach clench a bit. She’s not wrong, it’s been 10 years since either of them have brought up the night Julian found out he was genetically enhanced instead of a real boy. Kukalaka shifts a bit in his lap, voice coming out pointed and judgmental when she speaks again. “Eventually your stubbornness won out over mine.”

 “At least you’re acknowledging they’re separate.” Julian huffs with a low groan, pressing his right hand against his forehead and kneading the skin there. If he stays here much longer, he’s going to end up with worry lines across his entire face. But he has nowhere to go, Garak and Miles waiting on the other side of the door, probably listening in on the entire conversation.

 “I didn’t understand the question because there isn’t any difference.” Kukalaka sighs in a tight voice, swinging her tail around so it hits him lightly in the chin. Her gaze though, is anything but playful, hazel eyes that match his staring up at him with a tenacity that has been lost to Julian for months, maybe even years. He’s not sure he’s ever seen it in Kukalaka’s eyes before.

 “What?” Julian asks and hates how his voice shakes, how he can feel his spine stiffening again at her words. That doesn’t make any sense. If she’d thought they were the same, wouldn’t he feel it? Wouldn’t he _know_ she was his soul, see all the ways in which they were the same and all the parts of her that were parts of himself he kept hidden?

 “Between you and Jules. You were always the same, for me.” Kukalaka tells him with a roll of her back, sitting up on her front paws so Julian has to meet her gaze. He stares back at her and swallows deeply, trying to think of an argument, some secret words that will make his blood stop rushing to his head at such terrifying speeds.

 “That’s not possible. When my parents decided to genetically enhance Jules, he was irrevocably changed.” Julian mutters tightly, closing his eyes and biting his lip so hard that he tastes just a hint of copper on his tongue. He would know, if he were the same. Julian would remember instead of the first six and a half years of his life being blank and -

 “ _You_ were irrevocably changed,” Miles calls from the doorway, gaze more sympathetic than it had been before, though the anger isn’t entirely gone. Julian doesn’t think it’s for him anymore.

 “Miles.” Julian gazes over his friend, giving him a smile so fragile he’s not sure it doesn’t shatter on his face before he’s even done saying his friend’s name. He takes a deep breath, gaze dropping to Murphy for a second, who looks even more concerned than Miles, if that’s possible. Maybe Eyal and Garak will be easier to face. But no, there he gets a calculating but strangely warm stare from Eyal, Garak walking towards him purposefully and silently. “Garak.”

 “You should listen to yourself, Julian, god knows how much you like to be right.” Garak says with a warm chuckle as he comes to stand by his side, kneeling down and then carefully shifting into a seated position. Julian lets out a small scoff, doing his best to ignore the concerned look in Garak’s eyes or the way his hand comes up to rest on his right shoulder, fingers spreading out over his collarbone far more gently than before. He tries and he fails, exhaling loudly as he closes his eyes and tries to will everyone in the room away.

 “As though you’re one to talk.” Julian points out softly, smirking at Garak weakly as he opens his eyes, some of the old familiar playfulness coming back to him as he meets Garak’s slightly warmer gaze. Julian hears the heavy steps of Miles moving across the room without having to look over to him, Murphy’s small, hurried patter following him. Miles finally comes to stand on his right side and immediately sits down on the floor, Murphy climbing into his lap so they can both stare up at him with the same worried, wounded gaze that makes Julian’s hands curl around the carpet even tighter than before. They don’t need to be worried because he’s not their soulmate.

 “Jules hated being wrong too.” Kukalaka throws out after a moment, voice light and airy as she shrinks down to a ringtail, curling up against his chest. Garak lets out a raucous laugh, loud and bright and apparently contagious, as Miles starts too, chuckles lower and tougher. Murphy joins in with a strange bark, Eyal trilling into his ear at a pitch that makes Julian wince, fighting the urge to cover his ears with his hands. He’s not a child anymore.

 “Of course he did.” Eyal scoffs when her trilling laugh dies down, flapping her wings so they gently brush against his cheek, above where Garak is still making circles against his collarbones through his uniform. Julian doesn’t quite have the strength to ask him to stop, relaxing into the touch just a hair. His resolve has never been as good as he’d like.

 “I suppose he wanted to help people too?” Miles asks Kukalaka instead of him, bending down to meet her gaze with a steady one of his own. Julian makes an offended noise deep in the back of his throat, because Miles is _his_ best friend, he could at least have the decency to ask him. Miles doesn’t give him so much as a glance, though he brings a hand up to grip the opposite shoulder from Garak, hand positioned a bit higher on his shoulder so his fingers don’t come close to touching his collarbone.

 “He used to prick all of his fingers trying to sew up his stuffed animals or Amsha’s clothes.” Kukalaka tells them warmly, eyes gleaming playfully as she shifts from a ringtail to a small calico cat. There’s something soft and wistful to her gaze when she glances up at him, and it makes his stomach twist, the sound of needles clicking together clumsily suddenly ringing across his mind. “He wasn’t very good at it, but he never stopped, not even when he got hurt.”

 “See, we told you, you were always trying to help even if it wasn’t the smart thing to do.” Murphy says with a hint of smugness in her voice as she shifts forward, pressing her head against his side, big brown eyes staring up at him. Miles squeezes his shoulder at the same time Garak makes another small circle against his clavicle, warm and alive and there, all things that belong to Jules.  

 But. What if. What if Kukalaka is right? What if, at the core, there’s no substantial differences between him and the boy from before? Does he even want that? If Julian is Jules, then he’s still the boy his parents threw away, the boy who got bullied and didn’t understand why, who was too awkward, too excitable - well, he supposes the last two haven’t changed. Julian lets out a rueful laugh at the thought, one that slowly becomes more and more choked, gaze growing more and more watered with each passing moment.

 Julian feels the tears start sliding down his cheeks, but he can’t bring himself to wipe them away this time, isn’t sure he even could with how hard his hands are shaking. He isn’t Jules. He isn’t. If he is then he’s been hurting Kukalaka for years and he’s wasted so much time alone, to the point where loneliness has come to define him. If he were Jules then those dreams -

  _Needles stabbed in his arms and his skull. Growing and shrinking and growing, stretch marks burning on his skin and disappearing just as quickly. Electricity spreading through his veins no matter how loud he screamed. Waking up losing days and weeks, brain even foggier than before. Waking up with numbers and words in his head he doesn’t know, brain not able to stop even when it hurts._

_The scent of anesthetic so strong that he can’t breath. Masks above him, always masks. Alone except Kukalaka. Alone for months and months. Eggshell walls and hard grey floors. His parents barely visit, mother always in tears and father beaming at him like he’s not in pain. Neither of them will take him home no matter how many times he asks or how many doctors stick needles in his arms or put him to sleep and he’s scared and he wants to go home -_

Then those dreams aren’t dreams, they’re memories he’s compartmentalized and locked away where they can’t hurt him or anyone else, burying Jules deep in the back of his mind where no one can reach him.

 But … Julian looks up through his tears, at where Garak’s thick grey hand is still spread against his collar bone protectively, Eyal pressing a bird kiss to his temple. Then he glances the other way as much as he can, Miles hand a warm and heavy weight on his shoulder, Murphy lying protectively in front of him. Right next to Kukalaka.

 Kukalaka, who stares back at him with the same watery eyes. Julian doesn’t even think before he starts running his hands through his fur, a familiar sense of comfort and safety overcoming him as she leans into the touch. Maybe he hasn’t betrayed Jules Bashir by existing. Maybe Kukalaka is his after all. Maybe he _is_ Jules and Julian Bashir both.

 Kukalaka slowly shifts from a fox into a rabbit, red fur fading to a rich deep brown beneath his fingers. Her ears stretch and thin out, though not quite as long as the conventional British rabbits Julian grew up seeing. The word _Baladi_ springs to his mind, a type of rabbit bred specifically to be able to stand the heat in Egypt and he’s not entirely sure why. All he knows is that suddenly he feels - changed, overwhelmed in the same way he did when Kukalaka touched Eyal and Murphy, but also different somehow. Special.

 “Kukalaka, what are you doing? You know Vic is allergic to rabbits.” Julian reminds her with a hint of laughter as he presses his head toward hers, burying his face against her fur for a moment while she nuzzles him. Now that he’s broken his own rule he can’t seem to stop, pressing his face against hers and leaning into Garak’s and Miles’ hands as much as he can.

 “You’ll have to fix the settings then.” Kukalaka answers him as she rolls around in his lap, fur soft between his fingers where he scratches behind her ears. She gives him a pointed look when he just stares at her blankly because is she that insistent on staying a - oh.

 Julian lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, collapsing back a bit and expecting to end up falling over the edge of the couch. Instead he feels an arm wrap firmly around his waist, grip secure as a cool body presses up against his and holds him steady, even if Eyal’s feathers are getting in his eye. Julian opens and closes his mouth, not sure what to say, overwhelmed with relief and shock because - he has a soul. He has a soul and it’s a _rabbit_. “You settled. As a rabbit.”

 “I like her, she suits you.” Miles leans over and ruffles his hair a bit, Murphy pressing a wet kiss to his side. Julian lets out a small sound that could be a laugh or a sob, collapsing against his - _his_ \- soulmates and knowing they’ll hold him up because he’s theirs and they’re his and so is Kukalaka. He’s never been as alone as he felt, never been the monster he built up in his own mind. He’s someone.

 Garak presses a soft kiss to his forehead and Julian closes his eyes and gives into the sensations while he still can, hugging Kukalaka to his chest tightly as the clock ticks by. They’ll have to leave soon, photon lasers and dresses and patients all needing their attention, hours of meetings where he has to explain why his hummingbird is now a rabbit, and Julian suspects that he’ll be given at least a few weeks of mandatory therapy that he probably needs anyway. None of that matters though, not yet.

 What matters is that here in Vic’s being held by his soulmates and their daemons, Kukalaka back where she belongs between his arms, Julian Bashir finally feels safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I’m considering doing an epilogue or sequel fic to this dealing with some of the fallout from this as well as exploring the relationship between the rest of the DS9 cast and their daemons. I had planned on doing that more here (hence the formerly long list of character tags haha). Let me know if you’d be at all interested in those!

**Author's Note:**

> A: Please let me know if you think this work needs to be tagged with anything else besides what it is currently tagged with.


End file.
